


The Kindness Of Strangers

by 50251sid



Category: Borgias - Ambiguous Fandom, The Borgias (2011)
Genre: Actors and Plays, Acts of Kindness, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Devotion, Dysfunctional Family, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7826647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50251sid/pseuds/50251sid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cesare Borgia finds kindness in unexpected places</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Ticket to Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveyhowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveyhowl/gifts).



> "I've always depended on the kindness of strangers," spoken by Blanche DuBois in "A Streetcar Named Desire," by Tennessee Williams, 1947

When Cesare Borgia awoke with a start and abruptly sat up, he swore viciously at the sunlight which stabbed his eyes through the uncurtained window across from the bed upon which he was lying.  He brought his hand up to block the glare and glanced around, realizing that he had absolutely no idea where he was or how he had gotten there.  Tentatively raising the bedclothes which covered him, he saw that he was not completely naked, was wearing his undershorts.  Well, that was something, at least.  The room in which he lay was tidy and cozy-looking.  The bed was queen-sized, with crisp, clean white sheets and a light waffle-weave blanket.  On the floor beside the bed was a plastic bucket, apparently placed there the night before.  He had tied one on, he realized, and someone, some charitable soul, had taken him home with them and put him to bed.

_Borgia, you have to quit doing this._

He lifted his chin and sniffed.  Coffee, freshly brewing. 

Clearing his throat, he called out, his voice hoarse and cracking.

“Hello?”

The reply stunned him.  A sweet, high, cheerful note, definitely that of a woman.

“Hello.  How are you feeling?  I’ll be right there.”

He heard light footsteps approach and then the bedroom door opened.

_Whoa!_

Entering the room was a young woman, no more than five feet two inches tall, petite, ivory-skinned, with radiant blue eyes, softly rounded cheeks and a charming little snub nose.  Her long blonde hair was pulled up with a scrunchie into a casual topknot with loose curls straying here and there over her forehead and the back of her neck.  Her lips were a perfect, pouty cupid’s bow, pink and smiling at him now as she carried a tray which contained a cup of coffee and a miniature pitcher of cream.  She was dressed in a plain, light blue cotton shift that prettily revealed smooth arms and legs, and a pert bosom.  On her little feet were fuzzy blue slippers. 

_I spent the night in her bed and I don’t remember a goddam thing.  Borgia, you have to quit doing this._

“Good morning,” she chirped.  “I hope you slept well.”

She approached the bed where Cesare sat with the sheets drawn up close around his waist.

“I didn’t know if you’d feel up to eating,” she continued. “So I just brought you some coffee for now.  If you’re hungry, I’ll fix you something later.”

“Um…I know this is ungentlemanly of me, but…um…I don’t remember your name.”

She laughed lightly, her voice like the tinkling of tiny silver bells.

“Well, we were never formally introduced.  I’m Lucrezia.  Lucrezia Armstrong.  I believe your name is Cesare.  I heard your friend call you that before he left the bar.”

He rubbed his scruffy chin and grinned dorkily, apologetically.

“Yeah, Cesare.  Borgia.  Now I’m going to be an even bigger dick and ask how I wound up in your bed.”

She set the tray on the nightstand and handed him the cup.

“Here.  Drink your coffee.  Last night you were at the bar where I work, waiting tables.  ‘The Wheelwright.’  The friend you came in with apparently made a connection with a woman and skipped out with her, and you stayed.  Well, you got pretty shitfaced and picked a fight with this guy, Bobby Orsini.  He’s a regular at the ‘Wheel.’  A total idiot.  Thinks he’s badass.  You could ordinarily have easily taken him, I think, except that you were really, really drunk last night and not in control of your faculties.  Bobby swung at you and got you on the chin and you went down.  He was about to start stomping on you when Tony, the bouncer, intervened.  We were going to send you home in a taxi, but no driver was willing to take you.  They were all afraid you’d throw up in their cabs, they said.  Since my apartment building is only a block away, I thought it best to bring you home with me.  Fortunately, you were able to walk, leaning on me for support…”

Cesare snorted a laugh at the ludicrousness of the idea of tiny Lucrezia propping up his rangy six feet two inch frame.

“I must have really been out of it.”

“You were.  I was sad for you.”

The tender compassion in her words nearly made him gasp. 

“Sad?  Most people would have been _mad_.  Disgusted.”

“Oh, no.  Seeing you, a man like you, helpless.  It was heartbreaking.”

“It was my own fault.  I shouldn’t have gotten so drunk.”

“It happens.  Are you hungry now?  Can I do anything for you?”

“Tell me, Lucrezia.  Last night.  You let me sleep in your bed.  Was I…did I…?  I hope I was...”

“I undressed you and got you into bed and you went right out.  I did sleep next to you to watch over you, make sure you didn’t get sick.”

“Did I? “

“Only once.  I had put a bucket by the bed just in case.  I cleaned you up and got you to rinse out your mouth, and you went back to sleep.”

“You cleaned up after me.  You did that.  For me.  A complete stranger.”

“Well, I could tell that you’re really a gentleman and didn’t typically behave this way.  You must have been having a bad time of it and needed to get a little crazy.”

“Do you always help out ‘gentlemen in distress’?”

“No, never before.  Just you.”

“Just me?  I hope I behaved myself towards you.  Didn’t…you know…try to take advantage.”

She laughed again, her delightful, musical chime.

“I don’t think you could have, even if you had wanted to.”

Stung, embarrassed, he flushed and snapped hotly,

“Bring it on over here now and I’ll show you what I can do.”

She lowered her eyelashes.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to imply that you…it was just…you were so drunk that...”

Now it was his turn to apologize.

“No, I’m sorry.  Here you are, taking care of me, and I’m being shitty to you.  Of course I was too drunk to do anything.  A beautiful, kind, sweet woman saves me from being beaten up and takes me to her home and lets me sleep in her own bed, and I’m too uncouth to even thank her.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.  I’m just glad you’re okay today.  I took the liberty of washing your clothes in the basement laundry room.  They were pretty grubby.  Of course, I didn’t do your underwear, but I could toss them in the washer now, if you’d like.”

“No, thank you,” he replied, grinning. “I’ll just go commando until I get home.”

She blushed and ducked her head.

“Well, all right then.  I’ll bring your other clothes to you.”

“Lucrezia?”

“Yes?”

“Do you mind if I take a shower?”

Her lips curved into a smile.

“Of course not.”

Trying to be casual, trying not to stare at his fine-muscled frame clad only in undershorts, she fetched Cesare her best bath towels and showed him into the bathroom.  While he showered, Lucrezia busied herself in the kitchen. 

_He’s naked in there. Naked in my shower.  I’m such a liar.  I didn’t even try to find him a taxi.  Took one look at those long legs and that long, dark hair and that long, lean body and was lost.  Melted when I heard his friend say his name.  Cesare…Cesare, Cesare, Cesare.  Oh, god!  I nearly died when I saw Bobby knock him down and go to stomp on his face…that beautiful, beautiful face, with the cleft chin and the deep green eyes and those lips…Oh my god, those lips.  If Tony hadn’t intervened, I’d have jumped on Bobby myself, claws bared.  When I took him home with me, of course I wanted him to make love to me, so I was bitterly disappointed when he simply passed out.  When I lay down beside him and pressed myself against his back…OH!  He’s so beautiful.  I want him so badly, but today, in the daylight, having collected himself, he surely won’t want me.  He’ll probably just want to get the hell out of here and never see me again.  Never even think of me.  This will all be just some vague, hazy bad dream…_

“Lucrezia?”

His voice.  Calling her.

“I’m in the kitchen, Cesare.  If you’re not in a hurry, maybe you’d like some breakfast.  It’s ready.”

"Breakfast?  Jeez, yeah.  I’d love something to eat.”

Wearing snug indigo jeans and a white tank-style undershirt that clung tightly to his sculpted torso and hard belly, he entered and sat down at the small table upon which she had placed a glass of tomato juice.

“Not a Bloody Mary,” she smiled, attempting to be light and nonchalant in her manner. “Just plain juice.  But it’s probably better for you anyway.”

_Oh my god, he’s so beautiful.  His hair is so beautiful, still wet from the shower, all dark and tousled and curling down to his shoulders.  It smells of my shampoo.  His eyes…his eyes are as green as a forest, and clear and deep and…he’s barefoot.  What is it about a barefoot man?  So intimate…_

“I hope you’ll forgive me,” he remarked sheepishly. “My mouth felt like a dustbin, so I used your toothbrush.  I’ll buy you a new one before I leave.”

_My toothbrush?  I’d have sucked your dick…_

“Oh, that’s all right.  I’m pleased that you made yourself at home.  I want you to feel welcome.”

“I do.  I feel a lot better for having cleaned up.”

He drew in a deep breath and stretched his arms above his head and she nearly wet her pants at the sight of the soft tufts of black hair in his armpits.

_Oh my god, he’s so hot.  I want him so bad.  I could just die._

She served him a plate of eggs, bacon and toast, which he tucked into eagerly.  Watching him eat so enthusiastically, she beamed with pleasure.

_I love a man of robust appetites…_

“That was fantastic,” Cesare declared as he pushed away his emptied plate. “Can’t remember when I’ve had such a good breakfast.  Or such agreeable company.”

“Would you like some more coffee?”

“Let me clear the table first.  Then sit and have a cup with me, pretty Lucrezia.”

She dimpled, flushing pink. 

“I’d love to.”

Together they scraped the dinnerware and pans and loaded them into the dishwasher.

Lucrezia poured each of them a mug of her strongly brewed coffee.

Cesare watched her as she sank into the chair opposite him.

“You live here by yourself, Lucrezia?”

“Yes, I do.”

_Ever since I caught Alfie, that slimeball, cheating on me and threw him out._

“You look awfully young to be on your own.”

“I’m nineteen.  Too young to buy drinks at The Wheelwright, but old enough to sell them.  There’s a joke in there somewhere, I guess.”

“Do your parents live nearby?”

“Oh, um…well, my dad skipped out when I was four years old, so I don’t much remember him.  And my mother and I have sort of a ‘contentious’ relationship, I guess you could say.  As soon as I turned eighteen, she kicked me out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Lucrezia shrugged.  “I’ve know some who have it much worse.  Julie, my best friend, got kicked out by her mother when she was just fourteen.  She did what she had to do to survive.  Slept in doorways.  Stole.  Even sold her body when she had to.  It was tough.  She got married at seventeen to a much-older man who promised to be her sugar daddy.  She’s not terribly happy, but at least she’s not out on the street anymore. “

“And you?  How did you fare?  Were you out on the street?”

“Only for a couple of days.  I was lucky.  Tony, the bouncer at The Wheelwright, found me sitting in a coffee shop where I had ducked to get out of the rain.  I must have looked pretty forlorn, because he struck up a conversation with me and took me with him to the Wheel and got me a job there.  He actually owns this apartment building and lets me live here really cheaply too.  He’s so kind, says I remind him of his youngest child.  She goes to school out-of-state and he and his wife really miss her.  His wife, Winnie, is a doll.  She’s more of a mother to me than my own ever was.  I don’t know what I’d have done if they hadn’t rescued me.  They had no reason to.  Didn’t know me from Adam.  Yet they took me in.”

“The kindness of strangers.”

“I guess so.  Yeah.”

“And now you do the same for me, Lucrezia.”

“Oh, my,” she stammered, waving her hand dismissively.  “It was nothing.  You were in no condition to look after yourself, so I just…”

Cesare caught Lucrezia’s fluttering hand in his and held it gently.

“You did me a huge kindness.  Don’t make light of it.”

“Okay, but…well, now you tell me about yourself.  How did a guy like you wind up in the state you were in last night?”

“An unpretty tale.  I’d rather talk about you.”

“Enough about me.  I want to know more about you.”

Cesare sighed and rubbed the stubble on his jaw.

“What do you want to know?”

Lucrezia’s words tumbled over themselves in her eagerness to speak them.

“All about you.  How old are you?  Where do you work?  Go to school?  What made you decide to tie one on at The Wheelwright last night, even after your friend bugged out and left you alone?”

He laughed gently and took a sip of coffee to allow time to let her catch her breath.

“Well, let’s see.  You know my name: Cesare Borgia.  I’m twenty-three.  I’ve worked for my father’s company ever since I graduated with my MBA.  Promise not to laugh when I tell you that he has the market cornered on religious items.  Bibles, prayer books, icons of saints.  You want a shrine to Mother Mary, you know where to come.  We also carry priestly vestments and altar cloths.  Votive candles.  Pretty much anything you want in the spiritual department.”

“How about a ticket to Heaven?”  Lucrezia’s lips curled into a smirk.

“That, my dear, we cannot provide.” Cesare grinned.  “That I cannot give you.”

“Somehow, Cesare, I can’t feature you selling religious articles.”

“What?  You don’t think I’m saintly?”

_Heavenly, yes.  Saintly, no._

“Getting drunk and picking fights in bars isn’t my idea of saintly behavior.”

He chuckled.

“You have me there.  But honestly, that isn’t something I usually do.  I had reasons.”

Lucrezia rested her chin in her hand and locked eyes with Cesare.

“Tell me, then.  What reasons?”

“I was upset and needed to let off some steam.  Earlier in the evening, I had an argument with my father and younger brother.  About my future.”

“Ah.  I take it you don’t see yourself peddling religious wares for a living.”

“Nope.  Dad is really pissed.  He expects me, as the eldest son, to follow in his footsteps.  But I’d be miserable.”

“What do you really want to do?”

“Again, don’t laugh.  I’d like to be an actor.  I did some theater in college, as a lark, and found I really liked it.  The drama coach said I was good.  Really good.”

“What’s wrong with wanting to be an actor?”

“According to Dad, it’s a stupid notion.  No future in it.  No money in it.”

“Ah!  The crux of the matter.  Money.”

“Yep.  Money.”

“Is your family religious?”

“Oh, hell no!  Dad inherited the business from his uncle Alonso.  It was thriving to begin with, and Dad made it even more successful.  He and Mom keep up appearances, like going to church every week and putting on a good, pious, righteous front, but as for true religion, well, it’s somewhat lacking.”

“You mentioned arguing with your brother as well as your dad.  What was that about?”

“Juan, my brother, wants me to take over the business so he’ll be off the hook.  He doesn’t want it any more than I do.”

“What does he want?”

“To continue being the playboy he thinks he is.  Screw around, gamble, use drugs.”

“No wonder you were upset.  You probably picked a fight with Bobby because you couldn’t duke it out with your dad.”

“I admit I was itching for a fight with someone.  Anyone.”

Lucrezia impulsively laid her hand over Cesare’s.

“I’m so sorry.  We both have family issues, don’t we?  My parents ignored me and yours are all over you.  You must feel suffocated.”

Cesare lowered his chin and smiled.

“You get me.  Thanks.”

“I wish I could do more than just sympathize with you.”

“You make me feel that I’m not wrong in wanting to pursue my own goals.  That’s very powerful, just what I need to hear.  It’s hard as hell to go up against my dad, so you’re helping me more than you can know.”

“Am I?  I’m glad.  You should do exactly what you want.  You deserve to.  It’s your life.”

“The next time I find myself feeling browbeaten by my father, I’ll remember you and what you said.  It will give me strength.”

“But, Cesare, you seem so strong already.  I don’t understand…”

He grinned, displaying beautiful, even, white teeth.

“You haven’t met my dad.  He’s like a cross between a T-Rex and a hurricane.  He wants what he wants, and he always gets it.”

“What does your mother say about your goals?”

“She supports Dad.” Cesare snorted a laugh. “She has no choice.”

“I’m sorry for her too.  But, Cesare, what would happen if you up and quit?  Left your father’s company, say, and went to New York to study acting or look for a part in a play?”

“No question.  My dad would cut me off financially.”

“Is that so terrible?”

“I don’t know.  I’ve never worked for anyone else than my father.  I’m not sure I could make it on my own.”

She laid her hand on his arm and leaned forward earnestly, locking eyes with his.

“You can.  I know you can.  Look at me.  I’m on my own.  I’ve had help, sure, but you’d have help too.”

“Who would help me?”

“I would.  I would help you.”

Her brow was furrowed with concern for him, her eyes intent and anxious.  Touched by her impassioned declaration, he leaned in very close to her.  She was breathing rapidly, her lips parted.  When he spoke, his voice was soft, tender.

“You’re someone awfully special, Lucrezia, to offer to help a stranger.”

“Oh, but you’re not a stranger, Cesare.  Not anymore.”

“I guess that’s true.  I ate at your table, I showered in your bathroom, I slept in your bed…”

Before either of them realized it, they were kissing, hungrily, greedily, clutching at each other as sinners would grasp at divine grace.  When they separated, both of them were shaken and trembling.

“Lucrezia,” Cesare began, “Lucrezia, I…”

He stood.  Without a word, she leaped, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he caught her.  Cupping her bottom with his hands, devouring her mouth with his, he carried her into the bedroom and set her down beside the bed.

With quaking fingers, he pulled her loose cotton shift over her head and dropped it to the floor.  Running his hands down the sumptuous curve of her back, he pressed his face against her breasts, mouthing them through the light fabric of her white bra as he unclasped it. She stroked his hair and then raised his chin to gaze into his green eyes, ablaze with lust for her.  Her heart hammered within her and she eagerly claimed his lips.  He picked her up and set her down upon the bed.

He yanked his undershirt over his head, tossing it across the room, and then unzipped his jeans, pushing them down and stepping out of them.  Lucrezia emitted a tiny cry at the sight of him, at his hard belly and narrow hips, at his jutting cock, at his virile beauty. 

She scooted over to let him climb onto the bed beside her.  Feverishly, frantically, he hooked his index fingers under the waistband of her panties and slid them off her hips and then down her legs.  Kneeling between her parted thighs, he took his shaft in his hand and rubbed it over her quim, relishing its wetness and heat.  Without a word, with their breathing the only sound in the room, he lowered his body onto hers and pushed inside of her. 

_Jesus!_

She held him tightly in her arms.  Her legs curled around his.  He began to thrust.  Her belly rose to meet his, her hips pulsing in rhythm with him.  She whispered his name, desperately, as if calling upon a god.

Her pussy was sublime, slick and grainy like watered silk.  He could feel himself trembling as he plowed into her.  His breathing howled beside her ear. 

“Oh, god!  Oh, Lucrezia!  Oh, god!  Oh, fuck!”

 

He lay on his back, stunned, sated, depleted.  Lucrezia snuggled beside him in the crook of his arm, her head on his chest.  She was so tiny and fragile that he had been afraid to lie on top of her for fear of hurting her, but when she embraced him, drawing his body closer to hers, he was startled at her feral strength.

“Inside me, Cesare.  Come inside me.”  She had whispered, but her voice had the snap of a command. 

“You want this, Lucrezia?  You want me?”

“God, yes!” she had hissed, digging her fingers into his back. 

His mind blanked.  He could think of nothing besides having her, being inside her, coming.  Coming.

Now, afterwards, all the things he should have thought of before came rushing into his consciousness.  Contraception.  STDs.  Common decency.  A young woman is kind enough to rescue him from a dangerous situation, take him home and let him sleep in her bed, clean him up after he pukes and then cook breakfast for him, and how does he thank her?   He bangs her brains out like the uncouth lout he truly is. 

_Well, she sure seemed to want it too._

“Lucrezia?”

She stirred, lifting her head from his chest. “Mmm?”

“Are you okay?”

She pressed a kiss to his nipple and chuckled.

“You were wrong, Cesare.  You did give me a ticket to heaven.”

He huffed a surprised laugh.


	2. Declaration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein independence is declared

Lucrezia’s phone, lying on the nightstand, trilled with an incoming call.  She reached across Cesare’s body to pick it up.

“Tony, hello!  What’s that?  Oh, I’m fine.  Really.  No, Tony, he was a perfect gentleman.  He went right to sleep and slept it all off.  He woke up feeling much better.  Um…well, yes, as a matter of fact, he _is_ still here.  We were talking.  About careers and goals and aspirations and stuff.  We found out that we have a lot in common.  Small world, huh?  Did we _what_?  What kind of a question is that?  Tony, you’re shocking.  What ‘look in my eye?’  I’ll tell you what kind of ‘look’ I had in my eye last night.  Bloodshot.  I was dead tired.  It was the end of my shift.  Tony, I’m telling you, nothing happened.  No, I did not…oh, all right.  Yes.  Yes, I did.  We did. There’s no fooling you, is there?  It was…he was…I’m fine.  Just fine.  I know you worry, and I’m glad you care about me.  I’m fine.  I’ll see you at work tonight.  Thanks, Papa Bear.  Love you too.”

With an affectionate shake of her head, she returned the phone to the nightstand.

“That was Tony, checking on me.”

“I gathered that.  He wanted to know about…us?”

“Yes, the big snoop.  I can’t lie to him.  I hope you don’t mind.”

“The question is, does _he_ mind?  I can tell he’s protective of you.  Is he going to come after me with a baseball bat?”

Lucrezia giggled delightedly.

“Of course not.  He’s a wonderful judge of character.  If he thought you were a bad apple, he’d never have let me take you home with me.  Honestly, he was checking on you as much as he was on me.  He was worried about you as much as me.”

“Really?  That’s so kind of him to care about me.”

“Like you said before.  ‘The kindness of strangers.’  He’s a great man, Cesare.  Truly great.”

“I’d like to get to know him.”

“Well, I’ll introduce you if you ever care to come back to the Wheel.”

“What do you mean, ‘if I ever come back?’”

“Well…”

“Good lord, girl!  Do you think that, after this, I could just walk away?  Walk away from you?”

“Why not?  I mean, it was great, we had fun, but you don’t owe me anything…”

“Oh, my baby.  I owe you so much.  You have no idea.  And I really want to get to know you better.  Find out about you and your friends.  The sort of people who are kind to strangers.  For no reason other than that’s who they are.”

Lucrezia’s eyes filled with tears.  Cesare slid his arm around her and drew her nearer to him, pressing a kiss to her soft hair.  “That is,” he murmured, “if that’s what you want too.”

“You’re so warm, and so nice to be close to,” she murmured, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. “You’re so beautiful.”

He ducked his head and smiled, pleasantly abashed. 

“Glad you think so.  I like being here in bed with you.”

He coaxed her onto his lap and snuggled his nose against her throat. 

“We have to talk, though.  Things between us got really intense, really quickly, and we kind of tossed discretion out the window.  I’m not usually so irresponsible, and I’m sure you aren’t either.  So how about we get dressed and go see about a ‘morning after’ contraceptive?”

She laughed lightly.

“That’s thoughtful of you, but there’s no need.  I’m already taking birth control pills.  I…um…I just broke up with a guy recently and I’m finishing up my current cycle, so I’m still protected.  I knew I was safe, but it didn’t even occur to me to let you know that.  Sorry.  As far as other things…”

“I’m clean.  I don’t have any ‘social diseases.’”

“I could sense that.  Cesare, believe me; I don’t usually behave like this, jumping right into bed with a man.  It’s just that you…that when I first saw you…I was so…I…”

He kissed her lips, gently. 

“Me too.  I knew right away that you’re someone special.  Someone I want to be close to.  But you mentioned recently breaking up with a guy.  Does that mean you’re still on the rebound?  Still unsure of your feelings?”

“Please don’t even bring up the subject.  He was a creep.  A lying, cheating creep.  I’m well rid of him, and I have no regrets that he’s gone.”  She raised her hand and stroked his hair away from his face.  “I’m so glad we met.”  She traced her finger along the fine curve of his bottom lip.  “All I want to do is kiss you and touch you and just stare at you.  You’re so beautiful.”

He lowered himself down onto the pillows and had her straddle his thighs, cupping her lovely round breasts with his big hands.

“Lucrezia, I could look at you like this forever.”

She smiled and reached down, grasping his shaft, which instantly sprang to life in her hand.

“Just looking could get boring, don’t you think?” she teased.  She bent down and claimed his lips with hers and then, straightening, slid herself down onto his cock, sheathing it to the hilt.  He groaned aloud and grasped her hips, grinding hard against her.

“Oh, fuck, Lucrezia,” he breathed as she ran her soft hands over his smooth chest, caressing his nipples with her fingertips.  He pulled her down onto him to kiss her, pushing his tongue into her eager mouth.  Gripping her tightly, he flipped them over so that she lay on her back, with him crouched above her.  He brought his hand between their bodies and caressed her clitoris with his long fingers. 

“Come for me,” he crooned to her.  “Let me know you like it.”

“I love it,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.” 

He rubbed harder, faster, as she squirmed beneath him, breathing hard, his cock deep inside her.  Her grip on his muscular forearm tightened as she neared her peak and then suddenly went over the edge, crying out his name, clasping her legs around his.  His countenance glowed with pleasure and gratification at having brought her to ecstasy. 

“My baby,” he whispered. “My sweet baby.”

He kissed her lips and her throat and her shoulders as she clung to him, shuddering.  After a moment, she gazed up at him with her clear, trusting blue eyes.

“Now you, Cesare.”

He settled himself down upon her, cradled between her thighs, and began to move within her, slowly at first, with long, languid motions, and then, as his desire sharpened, with short, hard thrusts that accelerated and quickly culminated in a final drive.  His cock twitched and he came, again and again, filling her as he emptied himself.

When he collapsed onto her, she twined her arms and legs around his body, embracing him as if she’d never let go.  He buried his face in her hair, which had long ago come loose from the scrunchie and now cascaded over her shoulders.  They lay together for a long while, holding each other, whispering softly. Cesare finally turned onto his back and gathered Lucrezia to him, snuggled in the crook of his arm. 

_I feel as if I belong here, as if I’ve been lying here in Lucrezia’s bed all my life._

Smiling fondly, he bent his head to kiss her and she gazed at him with earnest, adoring, beseeching eyes.

“What, Baby?  What is it?” he murmured tenderly, stroking her soft cheek with the back of his hand.

“Oh, Cesare,” she whispered, her lips trembling, her voice halting.  “I’m so glad you’re here.  I want so much for you to stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.  This is happening so fast.  Too fast for you?”

“Not for me, but maybe for you, Cesare?”

“Nope.  It feels just right to me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life that I want to be with you.  I know—I just know—that we were meant for each other.”

She laid her head down upon his chest and sighed with happiness as his arm tightened around her.

“We’ll be good for each other, Cesare.  I promise.”

They made love twice more and then slept for a little while, wrapped up in each other’s embrace.  When they awoke in the early afternoon, they got out of bed and Lucrezia went to take a shower.  Cesare telephoned his mother who demanded to know why he didn’t come home the previous night.

“I slept at a friend’s house, Mom.  If you were concerned, why didn’t you call me to see where I was?”

“Because it’s your responsibility to let me know that.  I’m the parent.”

“But what if I weren’t able to call you?  Say an accident happened, or…”

“What nonsense!  You should have called.  You would have spared me worry.”

Cesare held the phone away and sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, Mother.  I’m sorry.”

“Who is this friend?  Do I know him?”

“No.”

“It _is_ a ‘him,’ isn’t it?  This friend?”

“Um…no, actually.”

“You spent the night with a woman?  How could you?”

“Mom, this may surprise you, but I’m an adult.  I’ve been an adult for quite some time now.  And, I hate to tell you this, but I’m not a virg…”

“Stop it!  Stop it at once.  I forbid you to be vulgar to me.  I don’t want to know about your sordid little exploits.  Just tell me one thing: did anyone see you with her?”

“I suppose so.  We weren’t exactly hiding.”

“How could you do this to your father and me?  You know our business depends upon our reputation in the community.  On how we are perceived as a family and as individuals.”

“Well, Mom, look at it this way:  I was with a woman, and she’s of legal age.  It could have been worse.”

“How dare you mock me!  Your father is going to have to have a talk with you about your responsibilities.  About what you owe to your family.”

“How about what I owe to myself?  How about my right to live my own life?”

“Is that friend of yours putting ideas into your head?  Is she?  I won’t have it!”

“Don’t go blaming her.  Mom, I love you and Dad.  I appreciate all you’ve done for me.  But it’s time I made my own way in the world.”

“Your own way?  What might that be, pray tell?  You’ve never wanted for anything.  You’ve always had the finest schools, the finest clothes, the finest home.  Your father is prepared to hand over to you on a platter a thriving business.  Your future is assured.  How could you even dream of turning your back on that?  On us, your parents, who worked so hard so you could have the life we wanted for you.  You, our firstborn.  All of your father’s hopes are wrapped up in you.”

“Well, I have hopes too, Mom.  And dreams.  I’m sorry I can’t fit into the mold you made for me.  I tried.  I can’t do it anymore.”

“Well, what are we supposed to do with the family business?”

“Give it to Juan.”

“He doesn’t want it.”

“So sell it.  Retire.  Go live in the Bahamas.  Enjoy the fruits of all your labors.”

“How can you even think of such a thing?  Why, your poor Uncle Alonso must be turning over in his grave.  He started that business from nothing and worked like a dog to build it into something to be proud of.  How could you even think of letting it leave the family?”

“It’s served its purpose.  Now let it go.  Mom, I just can’t see myself running it.  I have other ambitions.”

“Not that acting nonsense again, Cesare!  I forbid you to…”

“Well, Mom, you expect me to put on an act for the sake of the business anyway.  What’s the difference if I do it onstage or in an office?”

“I don’t deserve such disrespect from you, Young Man!”

“Mom.  Mom!  Listen, please…”

“We’ll cut you off.  We won’t give you a penny.  You’ve never had to worry about money.  You won’t even be able to afford to put gas in that BMW you love so much.  See how you feel then.”

“You know what, Mom?  I’ll be over in a little while to pick up my stuff.  I’d better start getting used to being on my own.”

“What?  Where will you go?  What will you do?”

“Since you and Dad are cutting me off, I figure that’s no concern of yours anymore.  Bye, Mom.”

Cesare ended the call and took a long breath, then walked into the bathroom where Lucrezia had just emerged from the shower.  He wrapped her in an oversized white towel and pulled her close. 

“Lucrezia, Baby, I need to ask you for a big favor.  If you say no, I’ll understand.  I just told my mother that I’m moving out.  Could I stay with you for a little while?  Maybe a couple of days, just until I can find a place.”

She flung her arms around his neck with a joyous squeak. 

“You’ve found your place.  Welcome home, my love.”

They grinned at each other, like co-conspirators.


	3. The Barter System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Cesare learns more about kindness

Although Lucrezia offered to help Cesare move his possessions from his parents’ home, he did not want her to accompany him there.

“I won’t have you subjected to their shit, Baby.  But I’ll be grateful to you for getting me settled in here.”

When Cesare parked his car, overflowing with clothes and personal items, in front of the apartment building, he was met by an older man standing on the sidewalk.  Perhaps fifty-five years of age, balding, but solid and muscular, with powerful forearms and a wide grin, he extended his palm and grasped Cesare’s hand in a firm grip.

“Hello, Cesare.  In case you don’t remember me, I’m Tony Sellers, the bouncer from Wheelwright’s.   I see you and my little girl hit it off really well,” he noted dryly.

“Um…yeah, we did.  Of course I remember you.  And I want you to know, sir, that I’ll treat her right.  She’s a very special person and I’m…well, I love her.”

“Glad to hear it.  My wife and I love her too, like a daughter, and since we live on the first floor of the apartment building, we’ll be close by.  Just in case.  Now let’s get you moved in.  Is this all your stuff, or do you have more to bring?”

“This is about it, Mr. Sellers.  I really appreciate your help.”

“My pleasure.  Call me Tony.  Since you’re with Lucrezia, you’re family now too.”

“Tony, I think I’m gonna be very happy here.”

 

Having worked within an economic structure of cash tendered for products and services, Cesare was inexperienced with the barter system that existed among Lucrezia and her friends and neighbors.  With their limited incomes, they helped themselves and each other by sharing what they had.  Tony granted Lucrezia a highly affordable rent rate in exchange for her helping his wife Winnie with the household chores such as laundry and vacuuming that her bad knees made difficult for her to accomplish.  She also made dinner for the couple at least three days a week, since Winnie hated to cook.  Tony drove Lucrezia to the market, since she didn’t have a car.  Samantha, a hairdresser who lived on the second floor, provided Winnie and Lucrezia with styling services, and Winnie sewed clothes for her.  Frankie, a young man who lived in the apartment across from Lucrezia’s, functioned as the building’s handyman, making repairs as needed, in return for free rent.  Herman, a friend of Tony’s, furnished fresh vegetables and eggs from his farm in exchange for being allowed free drinks at the bar.  Cesare was highly impressed by the creativity and cooperative spirit of these friends who cheerfully and happily assisted each other in getting by.

"We’re all in this together,” Lucrezia remarked. “We do for each other and everybody benefits.”

 

Natalie the druggist greeted Lucrezia with an affectionate smile. 

“Refilling your prescription, huh?  Do you want to wait for it, or come back later?”

“We’ll come back later, if that’s okay.  We have some errands to run right now.  This is Cesare, Natalie.  My boyfriend.”

Cesare, his arm snugly around Lucrezia’s waist, nodded and dazzled Natalie with his grin.  She regained her composure after a moment.

“Pleased to meet you, Cesare.  Lucrezia, your script will be ready in about an hour.”

Watching the couple walk towards the store exit, Natalie nodded approvingly to herself.

_So that’s who Lucrezia is getting her birth control for these days.  Nice.  Very nice.  Big, good-looking guy.  Love that hair.  A lot better than that hairy little twerp she used to date.  So glad she finally caught wise to him, that he was just using her for a place to shack up.  This guy looks completely different.  They’re so cute together.  He can’t keep his hands off of her.  It’s like he fears that if he lets go of her, she’ll float away from him.  Dear little Lucrezia!  She’s such a sweet girl, so loving and trusting.  I hope she can stay that way, that she doesn’t get hurt so much that she gets bitter and cynical.  Her new man does seem to be completely smitten with her._

The Argon Theater was housed in a three-storey brick building which had been erected around 1900, and could currently be charitably called “dilapidated.”  Punctuated with tall, grubby, narrow windows, it had once been part of a row of storefronts, but its companions on either side had been torn down long ago, leaving its outside walls scarred by the outlines of the former structures and the wallpaper which had decorated what had previously been interior rooms.  Cesare opened the door, hanging on rusty hinges and with much of its paint gone, and let himself in.  The smell of ancient soot and mustiness assailed his nose and caused him to sneeze. 

He surveyed the theater, turning his head slowly to take it all in.  Small stage, motheaten curtain, rows of seats with sagging, split upholstery.  The balcony was shabby.  The carpet was threadbare and gave up tiny dust puffs when trod upon.  The wall sconces were grimy.  A chandelier which must have once been glamorous now had many of its bulbs burned out and those that were still working were dimmed by layers of dirt. 

Onstage, a wiry middle-aged man with a silver Van Dyke beard and a towel draped over his head strode back and forth, performing vocal exercises.  He wore a black turtleneck sweater and black trousers.  Cesare stood silently and watched, fascinated.  After a few minutes, the man stopped pacing and turned towards Cesare.

“Oh, hello,” he said cheerfully.  “Welcome to the Argon.  I’m Charles DuPont.”

Grinning a welcome, he descended from the stage on creaking stairs covered by carpeting worn thin by the feet of countless performers during the decades and extended his hand to Cesare.

“Thank you.  I’m Cesare Borgia.  I spoke to you on the phone earlier, Mr. DuPont. You invited me to drop by.”

“Ah, indeed I did.  Call me Charlie, please.  I’m glad you could come.  Cesare.  A great name for a marquee.  You have leading man looks, too.  You mentioned that you’re interested in acting.”

“Yes, I am.  I did some acting in college and really loved it.  I’d like to get back into it.”

“How did you hear about my little theater company?”

“My girlfriend works at a bar nearby, The Wheelwright.  She suggested that I talk to you.”

“Okay.  So what exactly, Cesare, are you hoping to achieve in talking to me?”

“Well, as I said, I’m interested in acting, and I’d like to work with you.  Learn from you.  Get some experience.  I’m hoping that you’d be willing to coach me in exchange for help around the theater.  Maintenance, scenery painting, rigging, that sort of thing.”

“A small, shoestring troupe like we have here is a really great venue to learn the ins and outs of theater.  We have to do everything for ourselves:  makeup, costumes, lighting, set decorating, the whole ball of wax.  Does that sound like the sort of introduction you’d be looking for?”

“Charlie, it sounds like exactly what I want.”

“You’d be welcome to join us for a trial period, to see if this is right for you and right for our group.  I can’t afford to pay you anything, but I guarantee you’ll learn a lot.  How soon can you start?”

“How about right now?”

“Fantastic.  I was going through some vocal exercises.  Would you like to join me?”

 

When Cesare returned to the apartment, he was covered in dust and cobwebs and his clothes were paint-spattered, but he was jubilant and excited.

“It was so cool, Baby!  Charlie showed me so much.  You have no idea what all goes on behind the scenes, backstage.”

Lucrezia, delighted to see him so enthusiastic, hustled him into the bathroom for a shower and went to set the table for dinner.  Cesare entered the kitchen wearing only a towel draped low around his hips, his hair still dripping wet.

“Charlie is so great.” Cesare spoke rapidly, between quick bites. “He knows so much about acting.  He has had this long career onstage, all over the world as well as in America.  Europe, Australia, South America.  He moved here with his family about four years ago because he had a heart attack and wanted to settle down in one place, and this is his wife’s home town.  He’s at a point in his life where he can afford to operate his theater company just for the love of it, and he likes to help new performers learn and develop their skills.”

Lucrezia smiled and refilled his water glass, listening intently to him.

“I’m sorry about all the paint I got on my clothes,” he continued. “They’re old things, so if it doesn’t come out in the wash, it’s no big deal.  Charlie set me to work painting a backdrop for a forest scene and building some scaffolding for the actors to use to look like they were standing in a treehouse.  He says there may be a part for me in the current play they’re doing.  Right now, Charlie has about ten actors in his troupe, and they all double as stagehands and lighting technicians and makeup artists, things like that.  He says he’ll teach me all I want to learn.  I hope you don’t mind, but it looks like I’ll be spending a lot of time at the theater.”

“Why would I mind?  I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you this happy and involved.  Maybe I can help in some way.  Can you think of anything?”

“Baby, that’s so sweet.  Let me ask Charlie.  The company operates on such a rudimentary budget that there’s probably all sorts of help they could use.”  He reached over and covered her hand with his.

“Thank you, Baby, for letting me chase my dream.  For sticking by me.”

“I’d do anything for you.  I love you.”

He smiled at her tenderly.

“I know that.  More and more every day.  I can’t understand why you love me, but I’m so glad you do.”  He leaned over and kissed her lips.  “And I love you too.”

 

At the Wheelwright that evening, Lucrezia was filling a pitcher of beer from a tap when Cesare, bashful and nervous, approached her and laid a legal-sized envelope on the bar.

“Hi, Honey,” she greeted him with a radiant smile. “What’s this?”

“Look at it.”

She set the pitcher down and opened the envelope, extracting what proved to be a check made out to Cesare Borgia.  Her eyes widened.  “Where did this come from?”

“I sold my BMW.  Bought us a used Honda Civic.”

“Cesare, no.  You shouldn’t have…”  Lucrezia’s eyes filled with tears.  “You loved that car.”

“I love you more.  This will help tide us over for awhile.”

She rushed into his arms, weeping.

“Baby, don’t cry,” he said, rocking her back and forth. “You’re so good to me, supporting my dream of being an actor.  I want to do my part too.  It’s no big deal, really.”

“It is so a big deal.  A very big deal.  Oh, Cesare, such a sacrifice… A _used_ Honda Civic. How old is it?”

“Eight years old, but it’s only got 60,000 miles on it.  Those Hondas go on forever.  My friend Mick had one that got over 250,000 miles before it finally died.  It’s a lot more practical than the BMW anyway.  You’ll see.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind giving it up?”

“Oh, Baby, don‘t even ask me that.  All you sacrifice for me, all you give up.  What do you get in return?”

She looked up at him incredulously, dumbfounded.

“I get…you.”

His shoulders drooped and he melted.  Embracing her warmly, he pressed his cheek to her hair.

“Oh, my Baby.  How I love you!  It was the luckiest night of my life when I met you.”

A loud, jovial voice was heard braying behind them.

“Hey!  LuLu!  You and your boyfriend should go get a room.  But first bring us our beer!”

Laughing, she drew away from Cesare and smiled up at him.

“We can talk more at home.” Picking up the pitcher, she shouted, “I’m coming, Lou.  Keep your shirt on.”


	4. Valuable And Valued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Cesare begins to appreciate his own worth

Matt Heller, the owner of the dealership where Cesare had taken his BMW to propose selling it, wanted to buy the car for himself, and offered, in addition to cash, a previously-owned Honda Civic in good working order.  Coming to like Cesare during their negotiations, Matt hired him to wash and clean out the vehicles currently in stock on the lot and new ones as they arrived.  This would occupy Cesare for a few hours each weekday morning, freeing him to spend his afternoons and evenings at the theater.  In lieu of wages, Cesare would receive health and dental insurance for himself and Lucrezia. 

“It sounded like a good deal to me, Baby,” he told Lucrezia as they walked from the Wheelwright to their apartment.

“I think it’s a great deal,” she replied. “I’ve never had health insurance.  Maybe now I can see a dentist.  I haven’t been to one in years.”

Cesare stopped and grasped Lucrezia’s shoulders, holding her at arm’s length, his eyes locked with hers.

“Baby, I want you to call for an appointment as soon as our coverage begins.”

“Cesare, I’m fine.  There’s no urgency.”

He pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin.

“Yes there is.  You’re my baby and I want to take proper care of you.”

 

Entering their apartment, Lucrezia embraced Cesare.

“My love, I’m so touched by your sacrificing your car for us. How can I thank you properly?”

“Aw, Baby, I was happy to do it.  You don’t need to do anything for me, really.”

She sank to her knees in front of him and reached for the zipper of his jeans.  His eyes widened.

“Oh!  Um…well…okay…”

 

Lying quietly beside Lucrezia in bed, stroking her arm with his fingertips as it lay across his chest, Cesare sighed and pressed his lips to her tumbled hair.

“You love me, Baby?  You really love me?”

“’Course I do,” she replied softly. “You’re everything to me.  Why would you even ask?”

“Because I just don’t know how you can love me.”

She raised her head and scrutinized his face, baffled.

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“I am serious.  I look at you, and I see that you’re so smart and wonderful and independent and beautiful and kind and I don’t see how you could fall for someone like me.”

She sat up, the bedclothes falling away from her, revealing her lovely round breasts, the breasts she liked him to caress and nuzzle and suckle.  She frowned, wrinkling her charming little nose.

“Just what do you mean by ‘someone like you’?”

“Well, shit, Baby.  I’m not much to talk about.  Never did anything on my own.  Always riding my father’s coattails.  No incentive, no ambition, no achievements.  My own mother thinks I’m a failure.”

She reached for his hand and pressed it to her cheek and sighed.

“Oh, Cesare.  How can I make you see that you don’t have to prove anything to anyone?  How can I make you see yourself as I see you?  As a sweet soul, aching to love and be loved.  With so much to give, and such willingness to give it.  A beautiful eagle needing to find his wings and soar.”

She gazed levelly into his eyes.

“Listen to me, my darling,” she continued.  “Never doubt that I love you and that you are worthy of love.  Look around you.  Look at Tony and Winnie, and all your friends in the building who care about you and are glad to have you here.  They are good people, and they know other good people when they see them.  Why, you’re making new friends every day, and enlarging your circle of people who care for you and about whom you care.”

She leaned in close and kissed him fiercely.

“My Cesare.  You are the greatest gift that life has ever given me.  I’m sorry if your parents aren’t proud of you, that they think you don’t measure up to their expectations.  If they can’t see what a beautiful person you are, then that’s on them.  That’s their loss.  I see you, Cesare.  _I see you_.”

He flung his arms around her and pressed his head against her bosom.  She embraced him and rocked him back and forth, murmuring to him softly, of her love for him, of the happiness he brought to her.  He raised his head to look at her, and she saw that his eyes were shiny with tears.

“Darling,” she whispered. “Never doubt yourself, your own worth.  Be your own man.  Be _my_ man.  I want you, Cesare.  I will want you forever.”

He crushed his mouth to hers, clinging to her as if she were his lifeline.  Because that is exactly what she was.

“My Baby,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I love you so much.”

“Then show it by loving yourself.  Accepting yourself just as you are.  Accept your dreams and ambitions and know that they are good and worthy and I support them and I am at your side.  Just as you are at my side.”

“Always,” he declared.

“Always.”

He kissed her then, tenderly, his lips clinging to hers.  She sank down onto the pillows, easing him down with her.  Her hands reached for him; her eyes, shining with love, reassured him.  His fingers slid gently over her soft flesh, smooth and fragrant.  Her body there for him to touch.  Him alone.  She grasped his shaft and caressed it, uttering little cries of pleasure at the feel of him. 

“You’re so big, Cesare.  How you fill me up!  You make me feel so good.”

His chest swelled at her declaration of his manhood. 

“I’ll give it to you, Baby.  All you want.”

“Now.  Right now.”

He knew that her favorite sexual position was the most ordinary one, liked him on her and in her and all around her, so he covered her body with his, settling his hips between her parted thighs.  She reached between their bodies and guided his cock, rubbing the tip against her wet, welcoming entrance.  He groaned in eager anticipation and she pushed her pelvis against his, sheathing him to the hilt. Wrapping her legs around his, she pulled him forward, deeper inside her. 

“Fuck me, Cesare.  Fuck me hard,” she whispered, and he moved quickly to comply. 

She had made him feel so loved, so valued, so virile, so much a man.  He thrust into her vault, sure of himself, certain that she wanted him there.  Him, and only him.  His head and his heart and his cock exploded all at once, as he came hugely, gushing into her, giving her what she wanted, the gift of himself.

Awakened by sunlight streaming through the window, Cesare was relieved that he didn’t start work at the car lot until the following Monday, so he could go back to sleep this weekend morning. 

_Goddam!_

He turned over on his side to face Lucrezia, utterly enchanting in her innocent, slumbering nakedness, gathering her to him.  She sighed in her sleep, snuggling closer to his bare chest, and he draped his long leg across her satiny calf.  Lucky bastard that he was, he had Lucrezia’s unconditional love. 

Living with her had brought him a soaring happiness, a sense of extreme well-being that he had never known before.  Gone was the angst, the stress and tension that had squeezed him, crushed his soul.  She loved him.  Quite simply, she loved him. 

What she had said about friends…well, it was the undeniable truth.  Lucrezia’s inner circle had accepted him cheerfully and unquestioningly, as one of their own, important, valuable and valued.  He found great pleasure in helping Frankie make repairs and in running errands for Winnie, who didn’t drive.  He was greeted with smiles and pats on the back by patrons when he dropped by the Wheelwright, and he found himself engaging in pleasant small talk with fellow residents of the apartment building when he met them in the lobby and hallways.  He was recognized at the grocery store and the park where he jogged nearly every day.  He realized that all these people were now his friends too.  That they liked him.  For himself. 

He tucked Lucrezia’s bright golden head under his chin and sighed in contentment, then drifted back to sleep.


	5. Heart To Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein occur weighty conversations

 Cesare had blinked in disbelief at the identity of the caller displayed on his phone, and was even more surprised when his brother Juan asked to meet him for a beer.

“Go,” Lucrezia had urged him.  “He’s your brother.  You should go.”

“He wants something, Baby.  He wants more than just a friendly social call.”

“Well, it must be something important for him to contact you.”

“You really think I should see him?”

“I do.  How’s about you meet him at The Wheelwright?  It’s your own turf, so you’ll feel more in control.  If he makes you mad, you can just get up and leave.  And I’ll be there to give you moral support.”

“Okay.  I’ll do it.  But I don’t want to introduce you to him. You’re too good for him.”

“Cesare!   What a thing to say!”

“Please, Baby.  Trust me.”

“Well, of course, if that’s what you want.  I’ll simply wait on you like you were any other customers.  I can at least get a look at him, can’t I?”

“Sure.  Thank you, my Baby.”

 

Lucrezia looked up from wiping a table to see Cesare leading his brother to a booth at the far corner of the Wheelwright.  She could see the physical resemblance between the two:  their similar height and long, graceful musculature and the fine planes of their facial structures.  But where Cesare’s hair was dark brown and his eyes deep green, Juan had long red curls and warm, whiskey-brown eyes that twinkled with a devilish spark.  A very handsome pair, as many of the female patrons noted, turning heads to follow them with appreciative glances.

Cesare gazed warily at his brother across the table.

“As glad as I am to see you, Juan, I have to ask.  What gives?  What brought on this desire to see me all of a sudden?”

“I wanted to catch up with you, see how you are.”

“Really?  I wish I could believe that’s your only motive.”

“Okay.  The truth is that Mom asked me to check up on you.”

Cesare snorted.

“I should have known.  Tell her I’m fine.  Better than fine.  I’m happy.”

“Whoa!  Never thought I’d hear those words out of _your_ mouth.”

“Me neither.  But it’s true.”

“To what do you attribute this state of affairs?  To striking out on your own, perhaps? “

“Maybe.  Finally deciding to follow my own inclinations.  Do what I want to do.  And how about you?  Now that I’m not around for Mom and Dad to key in on, are they all over you?”

“They tried but soon came to realize that with me, they’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Little Brother, I’m ashamed to admit this, but you were always stronger than I was.  Always able to stand your ground, be your own man.  You were always more sure of yourself and what you wanted, and able to go after it.”

Lucrezia came to the booth to take their orders.  Juan’s eyes lit up at the pretty blonde server and he started to reach flirtatiously for her hand but Lucrezia, experienced at that sort of come-on, effortlessly backed away with an ingenuous smile.  Miffed, Juan mumbled that he’d have what Cesare was having.

_The hell you will, thought Cesare._

“A couple of draft beers, please.”  He struggled to keep his voice casual and not give away his true relationship with Lucrezia.

Juan turned back to face his brother and continued his interrupted thought.

“Well, thanks for the kind words, Cesare.  But I owe a lot of that to you.  Being always in your shadow had its advantages.  You were the one who got the brunt of Mom and Dad’s expectations.  You had to be the ‘good one,’ the one who behaved himself, got the grades, toed the line.  Nobody expected anything much of me, and I took full advantage of that.  But, Chez, didn’t you ever get tired of that?  Of having to be the ‘Golden Child.'  The standard bearer.”

“Well, obviously,” Cesare drawled. “I moved out on my own, didn’t I?”

“How is that going, anyway?  Mom was sure you’d be half-starved, with your clothes filthy and in tatters.  She’ll be bitterly disappointed to hear that you look great.  Someone is taking good care of you.  That new woman in your life, maybe?”

Involuntarily, Cesare shot a glance over at Lucrezia, who was at the bar drawing their beers and laughing with Tony. 

“Juan, that is the simple and absolute truth.  Thanks to her, I’m finally living the life I want.”

“Which is what, Chez?”

“Studying acting.  Being out from under the family and the family business.  You might even say that, in abandoning the religious objects trade, I finally found my Holy Grail.”

He and Juan shared a chuckle at his witticism.

Lucrezia set their beers down on the table.

“I brought you a pitcher so you can chat without me bugging you about refills.  If you do need anything, just give a wave.”

In spite of his intention to keep her a secret from Juan, Cesare gazed up at Lucrezia with such yearning and adoration in his eyes that she could not help but smile at him tenderly and caress his cheek.  He gave up the pretense.

“Juan, this is Lucrezia.  My baby.”

She held out her hand and this time, let Juan take it.

“Hello, Juan.  I’m so glad to meet you.”

He brought her hand to his lips to kiss.

“Good lord, you’re a pretty one!  Happy to meet you too.  The woman who makes my brother completely happy. I wish you could join us.”

She smiled sweetly.

“I wish I could too, but I’m on duty right now.  Perhaps another time.”

Juan nodded and released Lucrezia’s hand.

“For sure.  I’d like us to get to know each other better.”

When she had departed, the brothers leaned in towards each other and resumed their conversation.

“She’s lovely, Cesare,” Juan declared. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.  I’m a lucky guy.  She loves me.  She honest to god loves me.”

“I can see she looks after you well.  The sex is good?”

“Juan…!”

“Come on.  I’m your brother.”

“Let’s just say that we make the most of our feelings for each other.”

“I’m glad for you, Chez.  You deserve a break finally.  Have things go your way.  Believe it or not, I’ve always cared about you.  Always wanted to be close with you.”

Cesare’s eyebrows flew up.  “ _What?_   It seemed to me that you were the one who turned his back on me.”

“I remember it a bit differently, Brother.  As a little kid, I idolized you.  You were the one who protected me from bullies.  Took care of me.  I remember one time, you were maybe four years old, out in the front yard, and a neighbor gave you a stick of gum and you tore it in two and ran up onto the porch where I was playing and gave half of it to me.”

Juan paused for a moment and glanced away, clearing his throat. Cesare smiled.

“Did I really do that?  I don’t remember it.”

“You did it.  Mom never let me forget.  I can’t tell you how many times she reminded me of that incident when she was comparing my worthless character to your nobility.”

“Well, that’s a surprise.  All I ever remember hearing from her is what a thankless shit I am.  How I didn’t appreciate anything she and Dad did for me.”

“Believe me, Brother, I've got a completely different version.  The only thing I didn’t get from Mom was the silver polish to shine your halo.”

“No wonder you hated me.”

“But I didn’t!  I told you.  I idolized you.  And when it was obvious that I would never measure up to you in our parents’ eyes, I quit trying.  Resolved to do just the opposite.  If they despaired of me, I’d give them even more reason.  And that seemed to make them crack down even harder on you.  Honestly, Brother, I feel I owe you an apology for that.”

“Why don’t I recall it as you do?  Why do I just remember you seeming to be having a great time doing whatever the hell you wanted to do and me being the one carrying the burden of being the “good” one?  Remember constantly arguing with you about how I had to be the one to take over the business because you wanted no part of it?”

“Here’s the gospel according to Juan.  You were always the best at everything.  The smartest.  The strongest.  You had the best grades and you were Dad’s shining pride.  I was this total screwup who couldn’t even tie his own shoelaces.  But you know what?  _You_ tied them for me.  Looked after me.  Held my hand when we crossed the street.  Man, I worshipped you!”

“So what went wrong?  When did we go from being close to just fighting all the time?”

“I guess when I was almost a teenager and started to stretch the boundaries a bit.  You tried to keep me in line, for my own good, but I wasn’t having any of it.  I was an ass.”

“Juan…”

“No, Chez, it’s true.  I was rebellious and I rebelled against the one who did the most for me.  The one I loved and admired the most.”

“Me?”  Cesare’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“You.  And I’m sorry.  I miss you, man.”

Cesare breathed a long exhale.

“Do you think, Juan…might there be a chance that you and I could…?”

“Be friends again?  Brothers?  I’d love to.”

Juan held out his hand and Cesare grasped it.

 

Lucrezia sat curled up close to Cesare on the sofa as he excitedly related to her his conversation with his brother. 

“Baby, I wish he and I had had that talk a long time ago.  All those years we wasted being mad at each other, when we could have been friends.   Allies.”

“Well, apparently neither he nor you were ready for that before.  But now you are.  I’m happy for you.”

“It’s so great, Baby.  I have a brother!”

She kissed him and settled his beautiful dark head against her shoulder, gently rocking him in her arms. 

“You miss them, don’t you, Cesare?  Your family?”

He raised his head to look at her.  His troubled eyes reflected the ache in his heart.

“I guess I do.  Never thought I would, but I do.  Do you miss your parents?”

“Well, I don’t even remember my father, and it’s not so much that I miss my mother as I miss the _idea_ of a mother.  A mother’s love.  If that makes sense to you.”

“Perfect sense.  Have you ever tried to get in touch with her?  See if you could work things out?”

“Yeah, I did.  Twice.  But she just doesn’t want any part of me.  Having a daughter my age seems to make her uncomfortable.  I’m a reminder that she’s getting older, I guess.”

Cesare slipped his finger under Lucrezia’s chin and raised her face to gaze into her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Baby.  It’s your mother’s problem, her loss.  No fault of yours.”

“You mean that?”

“I can’t imagine anyone having you for a daughter and not feeling blessed and grateful.  Tony and Winnie feel that way about you.  You make them proud.”

Lucrezia brushed her nose against Cesare’s.

“Thank you, my love.  I needed to hear that.”

“It must have really hurt when your mother kicked you out.”

“It did.  I still don’t know what I did wrong.  I was a good student, kept my room clean, stayed out of trouble.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Nothing, really.  Just to get out.  She said she was tired of carrying me.  It was about two months before my high school graduation.  I had applied to a couple of colleges and was waiting to hear from them.  Mom was scared that she might somehow get stuck with my school loans.  I’d never have let that happen, but…”

“But with only two months to go until graduation…couldn’t she at least have waited that little bit longer before she made you leave?”

“I don’t know, Cesare.  She didn’t want me.  She just said ‘go,’ and I went.”

Lucrezia’s voice cracked and she turned her face away.  Cesare pulled her close.

“My baby.  My sweet baby.  I want you.  I’ll always want you.”

She caressed his cheek and he turned his face to kiss the palm of her hand.  “You’re my everything, Lucrezia.  I don’t need anything else.”

“You still need your friends.  You still need your family.  Look how happy you are that you met with Juan and opened up communications with him again.”

He ducked his head sheepishly.

“I guess you’re right.  I wish I could reconcile with my parents and have their approval of me as I am.  Is that being stupid?”

“Oh, Cesare!  Stupid to want your family’s love?  Of course it’s not stupid.  It’s human.  It’s natural.”

“I miss my dad, but I miss my mother especially.  I know that I’m a disappointment to her.  She had such high hopes for me and I let her down.”

“Cesare!  It isn’t your fault that you can’t be what she wants you to be.  No more than it’s my fault that my mother didn’t want me around anymore.”

“So what should I do?”

“Talk to her.  Try to make her understand how you feel.  Now that that two of you have had some time apart, maybe things will be different.”

“You tried to talk to your mother and it didn’t work.”

“True.  But I tried, Cesare.  I did try.”  Lucrezia stroked Cesare’s hair back from his face.  “I know how I felt when my mom rejected me.  Maybe your mother feels the same way.  Rejected.  Heartbroken.”

Cesare drew a sharp breath.

“You think so?  My mother, heartbroken?  Okay.  I’ll call her.”

 

“Cesare.  Is that you?”

The voice on the other end of the phone was the familiar querulous whine that never failed to set his teeth on edge.

“Hello, Mother.  How are you?”

“Worried to death, that’s how.  My firstborn son has turned his back on his father and me and all we’ve done for him, to abandon us for some whore who…”

“Stop right there, Mom.  She is emphatically not a whore, and she’s been better to me than anyone in my life ever has been.”

“What does she do for you?  Never mind.  I already know.”

Cesare sighed.

“Yes, you’re right.  She fucks my brains out.”

“How dare you speak to me like that!”

“Mom, I was hoping we could talk.  Really talk.  About important matters.”

“I am sick with worry over you.  Are you eating?  Are you taking care of yourself?  Sylvia Truesdale told me that she saw you in town the other day driving an ancient old heap of a car.  Is your BMW in the repair shop?”

“No, Mom.  I sold it.  That ancient old heap is my new car.”

“What?” Vannozza’s voice rose to a shriek. “How can that be?  Your beautiful car…”

“It was an extravagance I didn’t need anymore, and it brought in some money to tide us over for awhile.  I’m doing what I can to take care of things while I concentrate on my acting.”

“You’re insane.  You give up a marvelous career and a beautiful home in Fairfield to go and live in the _inner city_ with some silly little girl who encourages you to throw your life away on a pipe dream.  Cesare, for God’s sake, come to your senses before it’s too late.”

“For _God’s_ sake.  For _God’s_ sake.  Is that why you and Dad sell plastic light-up lawn nativities?”

“We work hard to provide for our family.  For you and your brother.  We’ve given you everything.  I don’t understand how you have any complaint against us.”

“You’ve never accorded me the simple right to be who I am.”

“Cesare, you’re too old for this ‘finding myself’ nonsense.  You know perfectly well what your life’s work is.  Come back home.  We’ll welcome you.”

“The Prodigal Son?  Well, Mom, thanks, but no thanks.  Believe it or not, with my inner-city apartment and my ancient old car and my pipe dreams, I’ve never been happier.  I finally have what I really want.”

“And what is that?”

“My own life.  My own dream.  Friends who like me.  A woman who loves me unconditionally and believes in me and puts me first in everything.”

“Does she take care of you?”

“What do you mean?  She feeds me well and washes my clothes and keeps a comfortable home for me.  I have a bed with clean sheets.  And for the first time in my life, I have a sense of peace and belonging.  Of being where I am truly wanted.”

“You’re wanted _here_.  I want you here.  Your father wants you here.”

“Sure, as long as I fall into line with your expectations.  Lucrezia expects nothing from me, but she gives and gives.  I’ve never felt so loved and appreciated.  I’m happy, Mom.  I love her and she loves me.”

“When may we meet this marvel?  This girl, Lucrezia?”

“Never."

“Why?  Are you ashamed of her?”

“No, Mom.  I am ashamed of _you_.”

Vannozza gasped as if struck and began to weep.

“Ashamed of me.  Your own mother.  You cut me to the quick.  _‘How sharper than a serpent’s tooth…’_ ”

“Really, Mom?  ‘King Lear?’”

“A thankless child, Cesare.  You are a thankless child.” 

“Mom…look.  I’d love for you to meet Lucrezia so you can see what a wonderful girl she is.  Why I love her so much.  But I’m afraid that you and Dad would be mean to her.  Treat her with disrespect.”

“Have we ever disrespected any of your friends?  Have we?”

“I never brought any friends home except those I knew had your approval.  For that matter, I never had any friends that you didn’t furnish for me.  I have fantastic friends now.  Great people.  People who are kind to others with no thought of what’s in it for them.  Friends such as you have never had.”

“Well.  Let us meet this young lady who does so much for you.  I promise we will be courteous and welcoming to her.  Perhaps we can find a new _rapprochement.”_

Cesare closed his eyes and sighed with longing.

“Do you think so, Mom?  Do you think we could?  I really miss you and Dad.  I’d give anything if we could be close again.”

“I want that too, my son.  I am still your mother.  My heart longs for you.  My child.  My darling Cesare.  Bring her over.  How about Sunday dinner?”

“That would be great, Mom.  Could we eat a bit early, though?  I have to be at the theater for rehearsals.  I have a role in a play that is premiering soon and I don’t want to miss…”

Vannozza’s huffed breath interrupted Cesare.

“Fine.  Come at five then.  We’ll have your favorite, _coq au vin_.  I’ll bet you haven’t had that lately.”

“You’re right.  I haven’t.  Thank you, Mom.  I look forward to you meeting Lucrezia.  Once you do, you’ll understand why I love her so much.”

Cesare could picture his mother pursing her lips.

“Yes, dear.  I’m sure of it.”


	6. Dichotomy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein is contained glimpses of the inner workings of the minds of both Cesare and his mother

Lucrezia was ironing a dress which she had freshly laundered.

“Is that what you’re wearing tomorrow, Baby?” Cesare asked.

“I was planning to.”

“It seems a little plain.”

“Winnie made it for me.  You’ve seen me wear it before and never said you didn’t like it.”

“I do like it, Baby.  It’s a pretty dress.  It’s just that…well, you’re meeting my mother.  I want you to dazzle her.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Let’s go shopping and get you a new outfit.  Dress, shoes, the whole shebang.”

“Cesare, we can’t afford that.  We have the utilities and car insurance coming out of this pay.  And I need to buy a fair number of groceries.”

“Well, how about we take some money out of our savings?  This is a special occasion, after all.”

Lucrezia frowned.

“Cesare, are you worried that I’m not polished enough for your mother?  Not elegant enough?”

“It’s not that, Baby…it’s…”

“It’s exactly that.  You think I’m not good enough.  Look, Cesare.  I want very much to make a positive impression on your parents.  I hope they like me.  But I can’t be anything other than myself.  They will either like me or not like me for who I truly am.”

Cesare’s face reddened.

“No, Baby.  I’m the one who’s not good enough.  I’m not taking proper care of you.  I should be buying you new clothes and a nice car and a house in a good neighborhood, and instead…”

Lucrezia froze, her chin lifting.

“Instead what?  I’m perfectly happy being as I am.  Are you not?  Do you feel that you’re slumming by being with me?”

“I feel like a chump.  That’s what I feel like.  When it’s just you and me, or you and me and our friends, I’m fine.  I’m happy.  I’m almost proud of myself.  But with my parents, especially my mother…well, I feel like I’m four years old again.  I feel anxious and nervous and definitely not good enough to pass muster in her eyes.  She’s going to condemn me for not doing right by you. You work in a bar so I can live off of you like a drone bee and waste my time pissing around a theater playacting like an overgrown adolescent.”

“You’re ashamed that I work in a bar?”  Lucrezia regarded Cesare coldly, indignantly.

“No, Baby, no.  Please listen to what I’m saying.  I told you. It’s not you.  It’s me.  I’m fine until I start to think about my parents.  How they’re going to regard me.  What they’ll think of me.  And I feel lame as hell, because you are the one who’s doing all the giving in this relationship.  I told myself that I was breaking free, was going to be a man, was not going to be riding my father’s coattails anymore, but all I really did was exchange his coattails for yours.  I do nothing for you.  I’m useless.”

“Stop it!  Stop saying such things.”  Lucrezia set down her iron and crossed over to where Cesare stood, his head hanging, his shoulders slumped dejectedly.  “Look at me, darling.”

He glanced away, ashamed to meet her gaze.  She raised his chin.

“Cesare, my dearest.  Please stop this.  We wanted to break away from precisely this ridiculous line of thinking, didn’t we?  To value ourselves by our own standards.  Not anyone else’s.”

“I can’t, Baby.  I just can’t help thinking how I’m failing you.  All the things I want to give you, yet I can’t give you diddly.”

Lucrezia closed her eyes and sighed, then slipped her arms around Cesare and pressed her cheek against his chest.

“What do you think I want?  Diamonds?  Couture clothes?  The Taj Mahal?  A Ferrari?  Cesare, I want none of those things.  I want _you_.  I want you in my life, happy, self-respecting, confident of himself.  You say I’m giving things up.  Think, my darling.  Think of what _you_ gave up.  You walked away from everything to be with me.  Your home, your family, your secure life…your BMW!”

“I gave up nothing for you.  I gained everything.  You are all that I want.”

“And I feel the same about you.  Can’t you believe that?”

“That I’m worthy of you?  No.”

“Then at least accept that I think you are.  Oh, Cesare, I love you so much!  It hurts me to see you doubt yourself.  Your own worth.  You worry about what your mother is going to see when she meets me.  Well, she’s going to see a woman who loves you beyond all reason, who wants you for your own self.  A woman who is insanely happy to be with you, to live her life alongside you.  A woman who supports your dreams and ambitions because they are real and good and worthwhile.”

Cesare flung his arms around Lucrezia and pressed his cheek against her hair.

“Oh, my Baby!  My sweet Baby!  Do you really mean that?”

“Of course I mean that.  I love you.”

 

In her bedroom, seated before her dressing table, Vannozza Borgia took extra care arranging her lush, gleaming chestnut hair.  Her husband Rodrigo, tall and straight in his immaculate starched white shirt, breathtakingly handsome in the fullness of his maturity, nodded his admiration.

“You are beautiful, my lady, as ever.”  His voice was velvet as he stood behind her, reflected in her vanity mirror, his hands resting on her magnificent bare shoulders.  “But do you really want to go to all that trouble just for our son?”

“He’s bringing _that girl_ with him.  The one who lured him away from us.  I want her to know that you and I are respectable, worthwhile people.”

“Well, surely she will see that.  She is the one who should be worried about making an impression.”

“She stole my son from me, Rodrigo.  She’s a heartless siren.  She made him forget me.”

“How could he forget about you, Vannozza?  You’ll always be his mother.  Nothing can change that.  But he’s a young man now.  Is it so surprising to you that he wants a woman in his life?”

“Why _that_ woman?  All the beautiful young ladies he knows within our circle.  Fine young women, women of quality.  Why has he chosen a girl of no breeding, no education, no refinement?”

“Darling, don’t distress yourself.  It’s just a passing fancy.  He’s much too young to know what he really wants.  This girl right now is telling him what he thinks he wants to hear, but he’ll soon outgrow that, and outgrow her too.  We’ve raised him well.  He just needs to rebel a little bit, kick over the traces.  He’ll settle down very soon and come back.  You’ll see.”

Vannozza grasped her husband’s hand and brought it to her lips.

“Oh, Rodrigo, do you really think so?”

“I know so.  Let’s just get through this little ‘exercise’ this evening and be gracious and kind and not make our son feel that he has to defend his girl or his choices.  He’ll come here and be reminded of all he left behind and surely will begin to miss it.  It will get him to thinking.”

“I blame myself, Rodrigo.  I coddled him.  Spoiled him.  I should never have let him grow his hair long.  We should have sent him to military school.”

“Darling, stop saying such things.  Cesare is a fine young man.  He just needs some time to sort things out for himself.  I was much like him at his age.  When my uncle proposed that I join him in his business, I was horrified.  Sell religious articles?  Never!  I had very different ideas.”

“I don’t remember that at all, darling.  When did you have this struggle?”

“In my teens.  When I was getting ready for college.  Every young man has to go through a phase.”

“But, Rodrigo, Cesare is twenty-three.  Not a teenager.”

“Young people mature later these days, my lady.  They do things at thirty that our generation did at twenty.  Calm yourself.  Our boy will be all right.”

He bent and kissed his wife’s flawless throat.

“You are so beautiful, Vannozza.  Never let a worried frown mar your brow.”

“I worry that Cesare is not being taken care of.”

“Juan said he looked just fine.”

“He probably lied.”

Rodrigo laughed gently.

“Why would he lie?  My darling, soon you’ll see your elder son in the flesh and be able to determine for yourself how he is.  Be your customary lovely self and make him glad to be here.  Receive his young lady with courtesy and make both of them feel comfortable.”

“I’ll try.  But I’m not at all sure I’ll be able to.  She stole him, Rodrigo.  Filled his head with frivolous notions.  Used her sexual wiles to lure him away from me, his mother.”

“My lady, your son is a man.  A healthy young man.  There is a place in his life for sexuality.  But eventually his good sense will overcome his overheated libido.”

“But what if she becomes pregnant?  It would be just like someone like her to get herself pregnant so she could have her hand in our pockets forever.  Or what if she gives him some disease?  What if…?”

“Darling, you’ll worry yourself into an early grave.  All we can do at this point is hope for the best and wait for Cesare to come to his senses.  Which he will do, and sooner rather than later.  Now, come on, my lady.  You are elegant and beautiful and my own libido is threatening to overcome my good sense.  Let’s go downstairs and prepare to greet our son and his young lady _du jour_.  And believe me, that’s all she is. His lady _du jour_.”

Vannozza smiled, in spite of herself.

“You always know just what to say to me, my darling.  I’m so grateful for you.”

Gazing directly into the depths of her sparkling dark eyes, Rodrigo kissed his wife’s hand.

“My darling, I am the lucky one.”


	7. Matthew 4:1-11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Lucrezia meets the parents

Driving to his parent’s home, Cesare took one hand from the steering wheel and dropped it into Lucrezia’s lap, where she curled her fingers around it. His palm was damp.

“If you don’t want to do this, darling, we can turn right around,” she declared, her voice calm but resolute.

“No, we have to make this visit, Baby.  We have to.”

“All right.  But remember that we’re together in this.  Allies.”

He snorted a nervous laugh.  “Allies.  Sounds like we’re going into battle.”

“I think that’s how you’re regarding this.  Cesare, darling, please remember something.  You’re not a little boy anymore.  You can get up and leave, whenever you want.  All you have to do is walk out the door.  The world will not end.  No one will die.  We’ll go home, to _our_ home, and we’ll have each other and our life together and we will be just fine.”

Cesare brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“I love you so much, Baby.  Thank you for loving me.”

“The pleasure is mine.”

 

Not having seen his parental home in some time, Cesare’s stomach squirmed as he was reminded anew of just how imposing a structure it was. A large brick Tudor-style with gabled windows and a steeply pitched roof, it rose majestically on its two-acre lot.  The driveway circled around to the back, where he parked and got out to open the car door for Lucrezia.  She reached for his extended hand and swung her legs out, standing and smoothing the skirt of her understated midnight blue sheath dress.  Her flat, metallic sandals revealed small feet with dainty, painted toenails.  Cesare’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Lucrezia straighten her spine and pull back her shoulders, thrusting out her high breasts, which bounced delectably as she strode determinedly to the entrance.  When he rang the doorbell, she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and smiled at him, her chin held high.

“Cesare!  Why did you knock?  Why didn’t you just come in?”  Vannozza’s smile was fixed and her voice high-pitched, straining at bonhomie, as she answered the chime.

“Because I don’t live here anymore, Mom,” he replied, an edge to his tone.

“This will always be your home.”

Seeing Cesare’s body stiffen and his mouth start to form a retort, Rodrigo interposed smoothly.

“Well, It’s your ancestral home anyway, Son.  Come in.  Come in.  Hello, my dear.  You’re most welcome.”

“Dad, Mom,” Cesare slid his arm around Lucrezia’s shoulders.  “This is my Lucrezia.”

She nodded graciously.  “I’m so pleased to meet you.”

Cesare looked around.

“Isn’t Juan here?”

Vannozza pursed her lips.

“He’s…out.”

Rodrigo led the way to the family room and offered drinks.  Cesare, seated next to Lucrezia on a deep, comfortable sofa, greedily reached for the Glencairn glass of single malt scotch that his father held out to him but caught himself when he realized how deprived he appeared. 

Vannozza smiled, sweetly.  “Why, Cesare, how long has it been since you had a taste of your favorite drink?  Don’t you keep it at your apartment?”

_'No, goddam it, I don’t keep a stash of hundred-fifty-dollar a bottle booze, Mom,' he thought to himself._

“Lucrezia and I are sort of exploring different tastes at the moment,” he replied, his voice tight.

“Ah.  Well, I’m sure you’re enjoying your adventures.  But isn’t it nice to come back to the tried and true?”

Cesare set the glass, untouched, down on the coffee table.  As he drew his hand back, Lucrezia covered it with her own.

“Cesare, I’ve never tasted that brand of scotch before.  Would you let me try it?”

He retrieved the drink and handed it to her.  She sipped and then held the glass to his lips. 

“Please taste this and tell me how it differs from the others we’ve tried,” she said sweetly.

He cupped the glass in his hand and, closing his eyes, swirled the scotch gently under his nose, reverently inhaling the aroma. 

_Oh, god, this smells like the air in heaven, he thought._

He brought the drink to his lips and allowed it to flow into his mouth, slowly, lusciously.  Lucrezia held her breath as, watching Cesare’s throat as he swallowed, she beheld his pleasure.

“Have another taste,” she urged, “so you can form a better opinion.”

 

The maid politely summoned them to dinner.

“Coq au vin,” Vannozza beamed proudly as they took their seats, “is Cesare’s favorite dish.  I’m so happy to have him here to enjoy it with us again.”

The table was draped with thick cream colored damask.  Matching napkins were folded at each elegant place setting.  Phalanxes of heavy silverware lined up on either side of the plates.  Some cut crystal goblets held water while others waited to be filled with wine.  Fresh flowers and candles in silver holders decorated the table. 

Lucrezia bit her lip, trying to imagine how her chili and corn bread might stack up against Vannozza’s coq au vin. 

_‘Just look at her,’ Vannozza thought.  ‘So vulgar, so common.  That hideous blood red nail polish.’  She glanced down at her own hands, with their satiny, softly buffed fingertips.  ‘And that dress!  In what church mission barrel did she find it?  Those shoes.  And that figure!  When did Cesare develop a taste for chubby girls?  I suppose she’s pretty enough, in a zaftig, peasant sort of way, with those round, pink cheeks and saucer-eyes.  But I can’t believe my son would turn his back on everything we gave him to take up with the likes of her.’_

Vannozza watched as, across the table from her, Lucrezia stared down at the array of silverware laid out next to her plate.  Cesare leaned over and whispered in her ear, which Vannozza noted was adorned with a cheap, imitation-gold earring, and she widened her eyes and nodded, her lips forming the words “Oh, okay.”  Obviously, Cesare had explained to her the order in which the utensils were to be used.  From the outside, in.  Vannozza forced herself not to shake her head and click her tongue in a “tsk.”  What had Rodrigo told her earlier?  ‘Be gracious and kind and not make our son feel that he has to defend his girl or his choices.’  She sighed.  _‘Oh, Rodrigo, my darling.  I don’t know if I can.’_

 

_‘Cesare’s mother is looking at me like I’m something that came in on the bottom of her shoe,’ Lucrezia thought.  ‘She’s gorgeous and elegant, and I really expected she’d put on the dog to a certain extent, but all these airs!  All that silverware.  Like this is a five star restaurant in Paris, not her own home.  Did she do that just to confuse me, make me look like a bumpkin?  Poor Cesare!  How he enjoyed that pricey scotch.  I feel awful that he can’t have such things anymore.  He tells me he gave up nothing to be with me, but…’_

_‘What a shitty thing for Dad to do,” Cesare thought. ‘Dangling that scotch in front of me, and then, fool that I am, I grab for it like I’m in the desert, dying of thirst.  I can just imagine what my Baby is thinking right now.  That I’m so deprived, being with her.  How can I let her know that she’s the only thing in my life that has any value for me?’_

Rodrigo glanced down the length of the table, restraining himself from frowning.  Three miserable faces turned towards him when he cleared his throat and cheerily proposed a toast.  ' _Cesare looks like he’s got on too-tight underwear’ Rodrigo silently observed. ‘His little girl appears to be on the verge of tears.  And Vannozza…well, she is doing a terrible job of hiding how appalled she is at Lucrezia.  The child seems nice enough.  Unsophisticated, surely, but pretty in a sweet, wholesome, milkmaid kind of way, with a rosy complexion and curvy figure.  A lot more bosomy and rounded than those angular, anorexic  runway model types  Cesare usually goes out with.  Probably a lot more fun to bounce on.  Cesare is obviously smitten with her.  Better to let it run its course.  I know perfectly well that the boy will soon become bored with her.’_

 

As they rose from the table, Rodrigo proposed that Cesare accompany him into the den for an after-dinner drink while the ladies had some ‘get-acquainted time’ in the family room.  Lucrezia’s face froze into an expression like an animal in a trap, but she forced a smile and followed Vannozza meekly.  Cesare sank into the deep, comfortable chair that had been his favorite.  Rodrigo grinned and poured him a large scotch.

“As much as you enjoyed your drink before, I thought you might like another,” he chuckled.  Cesare reached slowly for the glass, determined not to betray his eagerness as he had before.  Seating himself on the sofa across from his son, Rodrigo sipped his brandy and then smiled.

“Lucrezia seems charming, Son.  I can tell you like her very much.”

“I love her, Dad.  I’ve never been happier.”

 

“Tell me, dear,” Vannozza smiled, tight lipped, as she handed Lucrezia a glass of crisp, citrusy chardonnay.  “How did you meet my son?”

“He came into the bar where I work.”

“Ah.  A bar.”  Vannozza already knew that.  Cesare had told her that.  But she wanted to hear Lucrezia’s version.

“Yes.  It’s a nice, respectable place where people feel welcome and at home.  We are really a group of good friends who congregate there.”

“What brought my son in?”

“He came with a friend, Mickey.”

“Mickey.  I might have known.”

“Oh?”

“Mickey is a nice enough young man, but he really is an unsuitable friend for my Cesare.  Wild.  Rather uncouth. Rough-edged.”

“I see.  Well, Cesare tells me he appreciates Mickey’s loyalty and generous heart.”

“Of course.  You know, you’re quite different from the young ladies Cesare usually sees.”

“How so?”

“Well, he tends to go out with girls in our social circle.  Lovely, tall, slim young ladies who look like they just stepped out of the pages of _Vogue_ magazine.  You are…how shall I say this?...much shorter and more full-figured.  Tell me about yourself, dear.  About your background.”

“There’s not much to tell.  I am nineteen years old and have been working at The Wheelwright for over a year.  Tony Sellers, who works at the bar with me, owns the building in which I live and I help his wife Winnie out with chores in return for a break on the rent.  Winnie sews clothes for me.  She made me this dress.”

“Ah.”

“Winnie put love into every stitch of this dress.”

“How charming.  And where did you go to school?”

“Mrs. Borgia, I wasn’t so fortunate to be able to go to college.  I’m a great admirer of education and hope someday to study, but right now, it’s out of the question.”

“You know, of course, that Cesare attended Yale, his father’s alma mater.  Magna Cum Laude.  I keep urging him to go back and get his PhD.  He’s so close to accomplishing that.  Can you imagine, _Doctor_ Borgia!”

Lucrezia blushed and studied her wine glass.

“I’m very well aware of how educated Cesare is, compared to most people.  Especially compared to me.”

“What do the two of you find to talk about, then?  You probably don’t do a lot of talking, do you?  No doubt you find other _divertissements_.”

Lucrezia bit the inside of her cheek and replied slowly.

“We have a lot of shared interests.  I care very much about Cesare’s goals and dreams.”

“Can you understand why his father and I are so concerned that he may be wasting his education?   He was trained for much more worthwhile things than…” she nearly spat the word…”this _acting_ nonsense.”

Lucrezia drew herself up ramrod straight.

“Mrs. Borgia, I’m sorry you consider Cesare’s ambitions to be ‘nonsense.’  They’re very important to him, and therefore very important to me.  He works hard to learn about performing and he works hard to contribute to our household.  He’s made tremendous sacrifices…”

“I know.  I saw the car he’s driving around in these days.  A far cry from what my son is used to.”

“It bothers me too.  I know how much he loved his BMW.”

“Does it bother you that he gave it up for you?”

Setting down her wine glass, Lucrezia stood, her lips quivering.

“ _For us_ , Mrs. Borgia.  For the two of us.”

 

“She’s a pretty girl, Cesare,’ Rodrigo declared. “But very different from the type we’re used to seeing you with.”

“Lucrezia isn’t a ‘type,’ Dad.  She’s a real person.  Genuine.  Those other women…all they care about is the size of their diamonds and the size of my bank account.”

“What about the size of your cock?”

Cesare blushed beet red.

“Dad…”

Rodrigo chortled.

“I’m sorry, Son.  I couldn’t resist.  But I’d like to better understand your attraction to Lucrezia.”

“She loves me.  Unconditionally.  She believes in me and supports my dreams.”

“And what do you do for her?  I can’t imagine she likes driving around in an old clunker of a car.  And she’d probably enjoy some pretty new clothes.  If you come back home and resume your role with the family business, you’ll be able to keep your little girl in style.”

“Lucrezia doesn’t care about those things, Dad.  We’re really happy living just as we are.”

“Is that what she tells you?”

“Yes.  But I can also see that she’s happy.  And I know how I feel.”

“How long do you think it will last?”

“What?  What kind of a question is that?’

“Well, it’s been my experience that women don’t stick around too long when they aren’t being properly looked after.  Oh, they may say they’re happy to be living on love, but after awhile, they get really tired of doing without.”

Rodrigo produced his wallet and handed Cesare a credit card.

“Here, Son.  Take this and buy your girl some new clothes.  Maybe some real gold earrings.  Eighteen karat, something nice.  Take her out to dinner.  See how good you feel being able to treat her properly. Like a real man would.  Then see if you don’t want to come back to the fold.”

Cesare slammed the credit card down on the sofa cushion next to his father and jumped to his feet.

“Goddammit, Dad, you just don’t get it, do you?  Lucrezia and I don’t want that kind of life.  We don’t need all those material things.  We have each other.  We have friends.  Happiness.  We have what’s important.  What’s real.  So thanks, but no thanks.”

He strode out of the room.

 

At the very moment that Lucrezia had stood up, Cesare burst into the family room, white-faced with rage, followed by a sputtering Rodrigo.

“Baby,” he snapped.  “We have to leave.  Right now.  Mom and Dad, thanks for the hospitality.”

He grabbed Lucrezia by the hand and hustled her out the door to their car, muttering curses under his breath.  Gunning the engine, Cesare laid tire as they roared out of the driveway.

“Cesare,” Lucrezia began, “what happened?”

He was silent for a moment and then began to chuckle.

“I had no idea I could get so much torque out of a Honda Civic. Sorry, Baby.  I was really pissed.”

“Why, Cesare?  What happened?”

“My goddam old man.  He said some awful things.”

“About me?”

“About both of us.  I got so mad.  Tell me truthfully, Baby.  Did my mom say mean things to you too?”

Lucrezia’s lip began to quiver and she burst into tears.

“Yes.  She did.”

Chagrined, Cesare reached out and caressed her cheek.

“Like what, Baby?” he asked tenderly.

“She reminded me of my lack of education, as if I needed reminding.”

“You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.  You are better informed than most college graduates I know.”

“Your mother said that you usually date tall, skinny model types and I’m short and fat.”

“She said you’re fat?  You?  You’re perfect. Gorgeous.”

“You don’t think I’m fat?”

“Only in the places where you should be.  I love your boobs and your ass and your round little belly.”

“But I’m not ‘your type.’”

“Baby, I have never had a ‘type.’  Know why I dated those women Mom told you about?  Because they’re the daughters of her friends, and they were right there available and I was too lazy and indifferent to bother looking beyond our circle.  And I didn’t want to hear Mom’s mouth for seeing a woman who didn’t meet with her approval. I never liked those girls.  They’re shallow and selfish and care only about status and money.  You are the woman I want.  Only you.”

“She tried to shame me because you sacrificed your BMW for me.  As if I wasn’t already ashamed of that.”

Cesare caught Lucrezia’s hand in his.

“Don’t pay attention to a word she said.  I meant it when I said I was glad to trade the car.  It brought us some much-needed cash and made me feel like I’m contributing.”

“You are, my love.  You work so hard, helping out at the apartment building and at the car lot.  You even lend a hand at The Wheelwright.”

“I come there to spend time with you, Baby.  It just seems natural to help out, carrying ice buckets and bringing barrels and beer cases up from the cellar and stuff.”

“Well, Tony and all the other staff really appreciate you.”

“That’s nice to know.”

“What did your dad say to you?”

“That I’m not much of a man because I don’t have the money to take care of you properly.  That you’ll get sick of me because I’m not keeping you in style.”

Lucrezia gasped.

“Oh, Cesare!  You know that’s not true.  I’m so happy with you.  I love the life we’ve made together.”

“Baby, I’m awfully sorry I put us through this.  It was a big goddam mistake.”

“Well, now we know.  We tried our best, so let’s just put this behind us and go forward.  Let’s try to comfort each other for our hurt feelings.”

Cesare reached for Lucrezia’s hand and kissed it.

“I love you so much, my Baby.  I can’t wait to get you home so I can…um… _comfort_ you senseless.”

 

Riding in the elevator up to their floor, Cesare caught Lucrezia in his arms and kissed her greedily.  She eagerly returned his kiss, parting her lips beneath his.  He fumbled for his keys but continued to hold her tightly against him.  Once inside the door, he scooped her up in his arms and rushed with her into the bedroom.  With practiced ease, he slipped her out of her dress and underwear and set her on the bed while he stripped off his clothes.  She watched, squirming with impatience, until he stretched himself out beside her and pulled her close.  Nestled against his smooth chest, she pressed kisses to his warm skin, inhaling the clean, virile scent of his body.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he murmured to her, his lips near her ear. “You’ll never have to see them again.  I promise.”

“Cesare, darling, it’s all right.  I encouraged you to see them.  They’re still your parents.  You still love them.”

“I love you most of all.  Let me make it up for the hurt they caused you.”

He brought his mouth to her breasts, nuzzling and sucking them. 

“Forget my parents,” he crooned to her.  “Think only of me.  The man who loves you.  I’ll make you happy.”

He stroked his hand down her body, across her lovely breasts with their hard, pointed nipples, over the satiny plane of her belly with its soft blonde muff, down to her gateway, wet and achingly ready for his touch.  He caressed her with his long, deft fingers. 

"You like that?  You want more?” he whispered, kissing her throat. 

“More, Cesare.  More and more and more.  You’re such a man.  So much of a man.”

He ducked his head and grinned at her, flattered by her admiration.

“You’re sure of that, Baby?  My dad doesn’t think so.”

“He’s just trying to get your goat so you’ll come back to him.  What does he know about the kind of a man you are?  I know you.”

She pushed him onto his back and crouched over him, her warm breath teasing his belly.  He grasped handfuls of her tumbling hair.

“Oh, my Baby,” he whispered. “Will you?  Will you?  For me?”

“Just for you,” she murmured in reply. “Only for you.”

He watched, hypnotized, as she opened her soft lips and slid them down the growing length of him.  His toes curled and he closed his eyes in ecstasy.  She grasped the base of his cock in one hand and cupped his gonads with the other, gently caressing them.  He made a low growl deep in his throat.

“You love me, Baby?  You really love me?”

She nodded.  Letting go of his scrotum, she moved her hand up over his chest, circling his nipples while she continuing to gratify him with her mouth.  He gripped her shoulders and began pumping his hips as he neared his peak.  His entire body grew tense, his nipples hardening.  Lucrezia could feel his cock swell even bigger and then he arched his back and, with a shout, released into her mouth.  He slumped down onto the pillows, breathing hard.  She rocked back onto her heels, smiling at him, stroking his chest and belly.

“Oh, god, Baby.  You make me feel so good.  So good,” he gasped.

“I love you, Cesare.  I want to show you how much.”

She lay down beside him, her head sharing his pillow.  He enfolded her in his arms and kissed her lips.

“I taste myself on you,” he said softly.

“Then you know you taste good.  Hold me, Cesare.  Hold me now.”

He drew her closer and tucked her head under his chin.

“You and me, Baby.  Just us two.”

Her voice was hesitant.

“I’m not too fat for you?”

He sighed.

“Baby, forget everything my mother said to you.  She was being an evil bitch, trying to undermine you.  Make you doubt me.  Don’t ever doubt me or my love for you.  I’m yours.  All yours.”

Tears filled Lucrezia’s eyes.

“You mean it?  You love me?”

“Can’t you tell?  You make me come so hard.  I feel so good.  Now let me return the favor.”

“No, Cesare, please.  Not right now.  I still want to lie here in your arms.”

“As long as you like, Baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to my beloved Cbear


	8. Aftershocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein further strategies are devised

Gazing at the door which Cesare had just slammed, Vannozza sighed.

“Well, that was a disaster,” she said.

Rodrigo slipped his arm around her waist.

“Yes, it was.  And I am to blame for Cesare’s anger.  I thought to motivate him by appealing to his manly instincts, telling him that his girl would like him better it he kept her in more lavish style.  He took offense to that, I’m afraid.”

“I didn’t do any better with Lucrezia.  I tried to convince her that she and our son are incompatible.  Different backgrounds, different levels of education, different tastes.  All I succeeded in doing, I’m afraid, is driving her more deeply into Cesare’s arms.  No doubt she looks very winsome when she’s tearful.  That would appeal to his manly instincts in ways that you could not.”

“Perhaps for the time being we will just have to accept things as they are with our son.”

“Never!  I’ll never accept that.  He’s wasting his talents and his education and his very _life_ on that trashy, common girl and that trashy, common life she’s ensnared him in.”

“Well, my lady, it’s not as if he’s some naïve little innocent without a mind of his own.  He’s a grown man, you know.”

“She’s bewitched him.  Don’t laugh.  She’s bewitched him with sex and flattery and feeding into his fantasies.  Convincing him that his childish notions of acting are worth pursuing.”

“Well, maybe we should try some reverse psychology.  Humor him.  Concede to him.  Show interest in his ambitions, even support them.”

Vannozza recoiled in horror.

“Support them?  You can’t be serious!”

“Only _appear_ to support them, my love.  So he doesn’t feel compelled to rebel and cling so hard to his choices.  If he thinks we approve, he will be much more likely to change his mind and come to his senses.”

“I don’t want to lose my boy, Rodrigo,” Vannozza wailed, burying her face into her husband’s shoulder.

“You won’t, my lady.  We won’t.  We just have to be patient.  Surely you could see how much he misses the life he was used to.  Fine food and liquor, the elegance and comfort of his home.  It’s only a matter of time before he’s drawn back to all that.”

“But what about the girl?  He seems smitten with her, protective of her.”

“Well, in order for Cesare to return, he may insist on bringing her with him.”

Vannozza shuddered.

“Rodrigo, don’t say that.  I couldn’t bear it.”

“There is that possibility, my dear.  If you want your son back, you may have to bear it, at least for awhile.  Until he tires of her, or she of him.”

“She tire of him?  Nonsense.”

“It’s possible.  In any case, their affair will surely burn itself out if we let nature take its course.  Cesare will come to his senses and return to us and we won’t be the villains.  We’ll just be there to welcome him home.  Come, my darling.  Be of good cheer.  This will play itself out in due time.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course.  He knows we love him and only want what’s best for him.  As soon as he gets this little rebellious streak out of his system, he’ll come around.”

 

Instead of attending the scheduled rehearsal at the theater that evening, Cesare phoned Charles to say he couldn’t be there and stayed home in bed with Lucrezia until both of them felt quite recovered from the unsettling experience with Cesare’s parents.  They arose, donning bathrobes, and had a snack in the kitchen. 

Now Cesare sat slumped against the back of the sofa, his robe opened, with a sleepy Lucrezia kneeling, straddling his lap, facing him, her body cradled against his.  Her robe was open too, and her bare skin pressed against his. Her hair was tangled, her flesh bearing the scent of his passion.  His sweat, his spit, his semen.

Beneath the fabric of her garment, he ran his fingers up and down the tender skin of her back, past the dip of her waist to the swell of her sumptuous behind.  Had his mother really called her “fat?”  Is that what she had actually said?  Whatever it was, “fat” was what Lucrezia had heard.  He would convince her that her voluptuous curves gave him infinite pleasure, aroused him beyond all reason.  His hands followed the track of his thoughts, over her full breasts, the roundness of her bottom, her satiny thighs. She lifted her head to kiss his mouth, tasting herself on his tongue.  She caressed his scruffy cheek and gazed into his eyes, her own imploring him to stay with her, to love her.

“Never again, Baby,” he promised her.  “You’ll never see them again.  I swear.”

“But they’re your parents, Cesare.  You can’t just cut them out of your life.”

“You are my life,” he declared. “I don’t need them, especially the way they treated us tonight.  They hurt both of us.”

“How could they do that to you, Cesare?  Their own son?”

“I think, in their own way, they do love me and want what’s best for me, but we don’t agree on what that is.  Until they accept me on my terms, I refuse to even deal with them.”

“Are you sure that’s the right thing to do?  You don’t feel guilty or ungrateful?”

“Nope.  I know above all that I need you.  That I’m happy with you.”

He kissed her fervently, his arms tightening around her.  She wriggled closer against him, inhaling the loamy, intimate scent of his body, which had lately given her such euphoria.  She felt him hardening against her belly, his breath shuddering, and raised herself up to sheath him in the warmth within her.  Embracing his shoulders, she rocked her pelvis forward and down as he thrust upward, nuzzling her breasts, murmuring her name.  His release came quickly and she kissed his cheeks and his eyelids and his lips as he fell back against the sofa.

“I love you, Cesare,” she whispered.

“My Baby.  You make me feel good.  So good.  Only you.  Nobody but you.”

He held her very close, slipping his long fingers through the tangles of her hair.  She snuggled her nose under his chin and relaxed against him, the strength of his arms soothing her.  He felt her begin to doze and muttered a soft curse when, on the end table beside the couch, his phone buzzed.  Stretching carefully so as to disturb her as little as possible, he reached for the phone and raised his eyebrows in surprise at the identity of the caller.

“Hey, Juan.”

  _“Hola, hermano, ¿qué pasa?_   I heard you visited the Parents this evening.”

Cesare dropped his voice low.

“How did you hear that?”

“Why are you whispering?  Is something wrong?”

“Lucrezia is asleep here with me and I don’t want to wake her.  She had a pretty rough time of it with Mom.”

" _Quelle surprise.”_

“You’re the regular United Nations tonight, Brother.  So what did you hear about the evening?”

“Dad told me that he thought Lucrezia was very pretty and cute, but that he was sure you and she would get tired of each other because you are so unalike.  Mom had nothing good to say at all.  Lucrezia is the evil siren who hypnotized you with sex and flattery to get into the family’s pockets.”

Cesare snorted.

“Yeah, I’m keeping her in the lap of luxury.  Actually, the only lap she’s in right now is my own.”

“You lucky bastard.  Are you telling me you’re even now holding that beautiful little girl on your lap?”

“I have that honor.  Mom upset the hell out of her.  It took me quite a while to calm her down.”

“And you yourself weren’t at all upset?  Dad told me you peeled out of the driveway like your ass was on fire.”

“Well, yeah.  Dad pissed me off.”

“What did he say?”

“That I’m not much of a man because I’m not making tons of money and doing right by Lucrezia.”

“That sounds like something he’d say, all right.  What did you tell him?”

“That Lucrezia and I don’t want that kind of life.  That we’re happy as we are.”

“It’s not within his power to comprehend that, Brother.  He sees the world completely differently, entirely in shades of paper currency green.”

“I made a fool of myself, I’m afraid.  Dad offered me a glass of that scotch I like and I grabbed at it like a starving man.  Made Lucrezia feel terrible, thinking that I feel so deprived.”

“You’re home right now, aren’t you?  I’m coming over.  Be there in half an hour.  Put Lucrezia to bed and you and I can talk.”

“Juan, no.  It’s late.  I have to get up in the morning.”

“Me too.  I’ll bring a change of clothes and crash on your couch.  We really need to chat, Bro.”

 

Cesare gently roused Lucrezia and stood with her, carrying her into the bedroom.  He set her down on the bed, rumpled from their earlier exertions.  _‘Smells like truffles,”_ he chuckled to himself, then closed her bathrobe and tied it.  He drew the blankets over her, kissed her cheek and left her sleeping snugly.

_What the hell did his brother want?  And why now?  He was tired, wanted only to snuggle beside Lucrezia and go to sleep.  Shit._


	9. The Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the brothers collaborate

When Cesare opened the door, Juan stood in the hallway, grinning, holding out a bottle of Cesare’s favorite scotch. 

“I bring a gift, Brother.  Make it worth your while to see me tonight.”

“Where did this come from?”

“Where else?  I swiped it from Dad’s liquor cabinet.”

“Well, come in.  But keep quiet.  Lucrezia’s sleeping.”

“Shut my mouth with a drink, then.  By the way, I’m glad to see you too.”

“Sorry, Juan.  I didn’t mean to be rude.  I am happy to see you.  But what brings you here?”

 

_No doubt about it, his brother was a good looking young man, Cesare thought.  And that smile.  Cesare acknowledged that both he and his brother had inherited their father’s killer grin.  Juan had the same physique as he did, long and lean-muscled, another bit of paternal DNA.  Women liked Juan Borgia, all right, and he liked them back.  But, astonishingly for such an apparently self-centered scion of privilege, he was gentlemanly to them, sincerely enjoying their companionship and their conversation as well as their sensual charms.  Cesare grudgingly recalled occasions when, out together, Juan gallantly squired both his own and Cesare’s dates, helping them into cars, opening doors for them, pulling out their chairs because he himself couldn’t be bothered to pay heed to women for whom he felt little or nothing.  He was the one who behaved like the self-centered, ill-mannered lout._

 

Seated at the kitchen table with large tumblers of scotch, the brothers leaned in towards each other, speaking quietly.

“Sorry I don’t have proper glasses for the scotch,” Cesare said. “We’ll have to make do, I’m afraid.  Now what did you want to talk to me about?”

“First off,” Juan began, “I want to tell you how proud of you I am.  You finally grew a pair and stood up to our parents.”

“I finally have something I care enough about to fight for.  Mom and Dad were awful tonight.  Each in their own way, they did all they could to undermine Lucrezia and me.”

“They’re probably in shock that it didn’t work, and are now busy planning their next move.”

Cesare sighed.

“You don’t think they’ll give up now?”

“No, I don’t.  You’re still their Golden Child.  They’re sure you’ll come to your senses once you exhaust your libido.  You’ll miss your comfortable life with all its perks.  Like, for instance, expensive scotch.”

Juan raised his glass in a salute and took a large gulp.

“You shouldn’t guzzle like that,” Cesare admonished. “You should sip it.  Savor it.”

Juan grinned.  “Now, see, this is the difference between you and me.  I jump with both feet right into things and you tend to hang back.  Toe in the water, trying things out.  Tentative.”

“Not tentative.  A connoisseur.  Someone who respects the value of fine things.”

“I know.  I’m only teasing.  One only has to look at your girl to realize what a connoisseur you truly are.  She’s a once-in-a-lifetime woman, Cesare.”  Borrowing a line from _‘Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,_ ’ Juan steepled his fingers and slowly intoned, “You have chosen…wisely.”

“There’s nothing tentative about my feelings for Lucrezia.  She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.  I can’t believe she wants me.  Me, Juan.  Me, just as I am.”

“Well, why wouldn’t she?”

“I offer her so little.  I have no money and no prospects for any.”

“Well, there’s always the chance that Dad will die and leave you a fortune.”  Juan cackled at his own tasteless remark.

“Don’t even try, Brother.  You don’t shock me.  I’m immune to you.  And I know you don’t mean it.”

“No, I really don’t.  I guess we both need to come out from behind our old personae, don’t we?  I do want you to think well of me, Brother.  I’m not quite the worthless rakehell I act like.”

“Deep down, I always knew that.  Always wanted to be close to you.  I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

Cesare put down his glass of scotch and inclined his head close to Juan’s.

“So tell me more of what you heard about this evening.”

“As I said earlier, Dad thought Lucrezia pretty and sweet, but Mom had no good word for her.  They’re both convinced that you’ll lose interest in her and return to the fold.”

“That’s not about to happen, Brother.”

“I know that.  But they aren’t able to comprehend that you could want something or someone more than the life of privilege they have given you.  They think that right now you’re enamoured with sex and rebelliousness and enjoying sticking it to them but you’ll soon come to your senses.”

Juan held up his hand to cut off his brother’s hot protest.

“I know, I know.  They’re being hidebound and deluded.  You need to convince them otherwise.”

“I don’t need to do shit where they’re concerned,” Cesare snapped scornfully, “I’ve cut myself off from them completely.”

“Noble, but unrealistic, Bro.  Do you really think they’ll let you alone?  You’re their firstborn, their shining hope.  Their Prince of Wales.  The heir apparent.”

“I abdicated.  You can have that title.”

“You know I don’t want it.”

“What do you want, Juan?  Tell me.”

“Well, maybe, just maybe, I did want the title at one time.  Long ago.  I’d offer Dad suggestions for the business.  More ecommerce, for instance.  I mocked up a web page, and it was a good one.  Really eye catching and user friendly, to appeal to all the younger religious consumers out there.  Dad stomped on that idea like it was a roach.  Like I said.  Hidebound.  After having my ideas shot down in flames again and again, I finally gave up and decided, fuck it.  Since I mattered so little, I’d just do whatever the hell I wanted.  I found that it didn’t make me happy, but it was at least better than banging my head against the wall trying to win Dad’s approval.”

“Would you still want to take over the family business if you had the opportunity?”

“No, not any more.  I took a new direction.  When I was in college, I found that I really enjoyed my fine arts classes:  music, painting, but mostly writing.  I did a little bit for the the school newspaper and even spent a few months interning at a magazine.”

“What kind of writing do you like to do?  Fiction?  Nonfiction?”

“Both, actually.  But my favorite experience was writing a play that the school drama club performed.  I got some really positive feedback and comments from that.  So I’ve got another one that I’ve been working on.”

“Seriously, Juan?  You a playwright?  Oh, that’s unbelievable.  Too wonderful!  Where do you suppose our artistic tendencies come from?  Our parents aren’t exactly the “right brain” types.”

“We have a great grandmother on Dad’s side who was a rather famous opera singer in Spain.  And we have a many times removed Borgia cousin who did a painting about three hundred years ago that now hangs in the Prado.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Well, Brother, while you were hard at work selling religious knick-knacks, I was doing a little genealogical digging.  And here you thought I was just boozing and wenching.”

“Weren’t you, Juan?”

“Well, maybe a bit.  But I did useful things too.”

Cesare shook his head and grinned.

“You writing plays and me acting in them.  What a team we’d make.”

“That’s a fantastic idea.  Let’s do it.”

“If you really mean that, I’ll introduce you to Charlie DuPont at the Argon Theater where I’m kind of apprenticing.  He may well be interested in your play.  It won’t hurt to ask.”

“You think he might want to put it on?”

“Sure.  His aim is to discover and showcase new works by new talent.  What’s your play about?”

“Well, Cesare, promise not to laugh, but…It’s called _‘The Prince._ ’ It’s about a Renaissance king’s eldest son who gets sick and tired of his life, bowing and scraping to his father who is grooming him to take over the kingdom.  He chafes at the whole thing: the rules of courtly etiquette, the rules of keeping up appearances, the rules of sitting in judgement of the petitions of the populace.  Rules, rules, rules.  Then he meets a girl.”

“Wait a minute, Juan.  This sounds like a very familiar story.”

“Does it?  I can’t imagine why.”

“Juan…”

“All right, all right.  I wrote it about you.”

Cesare, stunned, huffed a breath.  His eyes grew shiny with tears.

“Why, Juan?  Why about me?”

“Because I love you, dammit.  I admire you.  You’ve always tried so hard to be a good son and live up to expectations that you loathed and were never suited to.  You took all the parental heat and pressure and it nearly crushed you.  Nearly.  Not completely.  Then you met Lucrezia and knew what you had to do.  You’ve become the man you were always meant to be.  I want to tell your story because you inspire me.”

Without a word, without a signal, Cesare and Juan stood simultaneously and flung their arms around each other.

“Goddam, Brother,” Cesare rasped, his voice choked with emotion. “We wasted so much time being enemies.  I’m so sorry.”  
“Me too.  We have a lot to atone to each other for.”

“Well, let’s sit back down and talk about the Argon Theater.”

At that moment, a choking wail was heard.  Lucrezia, crying in her sleep.   Cesare let go of Juan and bolted for the bedroom.  She was sitting up in bed, not awake, but not asleep, sobbing.  He threw himself across the bed and caught her in his arms.

“Baby. What?  What is it?”

She was unable to speak, was only able to press herself against his chest, flinging her arms around his neck.

“Was it a dream, Baby?  Did something scare you?” 

Finding her voice, she managed to gasp, “I dreamed you left me.  That you no longer wanted me.”

“Oh, Lucrezia!  Never.  Don’t even think it.  I’m here, Baby.  I’ll always be here.”

He rocked her in his arms until she quieted down, till her sobs abated. 

“My mother upset you, Baby, didn’t she?  Upset you so much that she’s made you have a bad dream.  Goddam her!”

“You still want me, Cesare?  You really want me?”

“I love you.  I’ll always love you.  Don’t pay attention to anyone but me.  Believe in what I tell you.”

He kissed her tenderly, stroking her hair, soothing her, caressing her.

“I feel silly now, Cesare,” she murmured, dabbing at her eyes with a corner of the sheet. “Causing all this fuss.”

“You’re not silly.  We need to tell each other our feelings.  What we’re afraid of.”

“You afraid, Cesare?  Of what are you afraid?”

“The same things as you.  That my dad was right, and you’ll get fed up and leave me because I’m a penniless schmuck who can’t give you diddly.”

She brought her hand to his cheek.  He turned his face to kiss her palm.

“You’re right, my darling,” she said softly.  “We must listen only to ourselves.  Then we have nothing, absolutely nothing, to fear.”

She pressed her forehead to his, her hand resting on the back of his neck.

“We have each other.  What more do we need?”

He reached for her and embraced her eagerly, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Nothing more, Baby.  We have all we need.”

When Cesare emerged from the bedroom, Juan noted that he looked shaken, his eyes red-rimmed.

“Hey, Bro, are you okay?  Is Lucrezia okay?”

“We’re both fine.  She had a bad dream.  I told her you were here, so she’s coming out.  She wants to see you.”

“I’d like to see her too.  But are you sure she’s up to it?  You look like you’re pretty frazzled.”

“I’m pissed.  Lucrezia had the bad dream because she was so upset by what our parents said to us this evening.  I’m not about to let that happen again.”

“Glad to hear it, but how do you plan to accomplish that?”

Cesare raised his chin, his expression resolute.

“By staying away from them.  Cutting them out of our lives.”

“You really mean that?  Never seeing or talking to them again?”

“Yeah, I mean it.  What would you do if they were that rotten to the woman you love?”

“Pretty much what you intend to do.  Actually, they have been awful to some of my girlfriends.  Some they simply wouldn’t allow me to bring by and others they were downright insulting to.  Practically called them whores to their faces.”

“I didn’t know that, Juan.  You never told me.”

“You and I never talked much, if you recall.”

“True.  It must have made you really hurt and mad to have your women friends mistreated by our parents.”

“It did.  Especially when there was no reason for it.  I never cared for the girls in our social circle, those snobbish ice queens with their grandiose expectations.  I always preferred women who were more earthy, more open.”

“Therefore whores.  Absolute Borgia logic.”

 

Wearing her bathrobe, her hair pulled up into a scrunchie, Lucrezia entered the kitchen and sat down at the table. 

“I made this for you, Baby,” Cesare murmured, setting a cup of tea in front of her.  She grasped his hand and brought it to her lips to kiss.

“Thank you, my darling,” she said and then turned to Juan, smiling at him self-consciously. 

“I’m sorry I disrupted your conversation, Juan,” she said with a blush.

“That must have been one hell of a nightmare you had, Lucrezia,” he replied, patting her arm.  “But you’re all right now.  You’re among family.”

She lowered her eyelashes and smiled.

“Thank you, Brother.  I’m so glad you could come over.  And look, you brought Cesare his favorite scotch.  How kind of you.”

As Juan broke into a grin, Cesare interjected.

“Baby, you’re not going to believe this, but Juan is a playwright.  He’s been telling me about a work he’s composing which I’d like him to take to Charlie at the theater.”

“Really?  A play?” Lucrezia exclaimed.  “What’s it about?”

“A tribute to your Cesare, actually,” Juan replied.  “About his meeting you and discovering his own worth.”

Tears sprang to Lucrezia’s eyes and she grasped Juan’s hand.

 

Charlie DuPont agreed to meet with Cesare and Juan at the Wheelwright the next evening to discuss _“The Prince.”_

“I brought you a draft copy, Mr. DuPont,” Juan demurred nervously as he handed his manuscript across the table to the theater veteran.  “I still have a lot of work to do on it, I know, but I’d be grateful for your opinion of it so far.”

“Oh, call me Charlie, please.  I’ll look forward to reading your play.  But why don’t you tell me about it yourself.  In your own words.”

As Juan began to describe his work to Charlie, Lucrezia approached their table and beckoned to Cesare, who rose and went over to her.

“Julie just called me and said she was coming over for a bit.  Would you mind entertaining her?  I’ll drop by as much as I can.  We’re not too busy tonight.”

“Is her husband coming too?”

“No.  Jonathan has a business meeting this evening and Julie is bored being all by herself, so she wants to come over here.  I know it’s not the best time, what with Juan meeting Charlie about his play, but Julie sounded so down in the dumps that I couldn’t put her off.”

“It’s okay, Baby.  I’ll keep her occupied.  If need be, we can go over to the bar and leave Juan and Charlie to talk at the table.  Things are going pretty well, but I can tell Juan is nervous.”

“Of course he is.  This is a big deal for him.  I’m excited for him too.”

 

When Cesare had first met Lucrezia’s friend Julie and her husband Jonathan Skolnick, he had felt intimidated by their burnished veneer.  The couple had come over to the apartment for dinner and, in spite of the informality of the occasion, Jonathan was dressed in a bespoke suit and Ferragamo loafers.  Julie, her red hair flowing in masses of elegant waves, wore a platinum wedding ring set with a diamond the size of a robin’s egg.  The get-together was cordial and friendly, although Jonathan seemed a bit stiff and stuffy.  When their guests departed, Cesare turned to Lucrezia and expressed his hope that he had done all right as host.

“Cesare, my love, you were wonderful.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so.  I know Julie is your best friend and I wanted to make a good impression.”

“Darling, did Jonathan make you feel uncomfortable?  Don’t let him.  He’s just ‘that way.’”

 “He seems a nice enough guy, but he reminded me of my dad.  Unable to be relaxed and casual.  Always an image to maintain.  I mean, wearing a suit to visit friends, for Christ’s sake!  What was he trying to prove?  That he’s got money?”

Lucrezia sat upon the sofa and pulled Cesare down beside her.

“Darling, now I think you’re being defensive.”

“Hell yeah, I’m being defensive.  Jonathan takes awfully good care of Julie, doesn’t he?  She looked like she just stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine.  And that ring!  At one time, I could have bought you a diamond like that, but not anymore.”

“I wouldn’t want one.  Look, Darling.  When I first met Julie, we were in high school.  She had been tossed out by her mother and was living on the street.  She wasn’t so fancy then.  Many a time, she’d come to school wearing the same clothes for an entire week, having slept in doorways or public parks.  Not smelling too good either.  Once I learned about her situation, I brought her home with me as often as I could, but my mother would put her out after a day or two.  Sometimes Julie would be able to go to a homeless shelter for awhile.  You’d think that a young kid like her would be able to get help from some agency or other, but no.  She seemed to just fall through the cracks.  But she was amazing.  Toughed it out to make it through high school.  She was seventeen when she met Jonathan and he fell in love with her.  Took her off the street and put her onto a pedestal.  But I don’t think she likes it there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I get the feeling that Jonathan thinks of Julie as kind of his Galatea, something he made for his own self-aggrandizement.”

Cesare frowned.

“Are you saying he doesn’t really love Julie?”

“Oh, he loves her, in his own way, but I don’t think he sees her as a real woman.  She’s his ideal, his own creation.  He took her in and took her over.  Had her teeth fixed by the best dentist in town.  Sent her to expensive spas for facials and waxings.  Bought her designer clothes and shoes.  She was always a beautiful girl, but now she has this patina to her so that it’s hard for me to recognize my teenage friend.”

“Sounds like that’s the whole point.  Have her shed her “untidy” background like an outgrown skin.”

“How poetic you are, Cesare!” Lucrezia exclaimed.  “Jonathan is really a decent sort, but he seems to need to control Julie.  Perhaps because he’s eighteen years older than she is and he’s afraid she’ll get bored of him.”

“Well, how does she feel about him?  It sounds like he’s done a lot for her, whatever his reasons.”

“Julie is grateful.  She realizes he did her a great service in getting her off the street and giving her a secure home and the best of everything.  But I think she’d prefer being loved as a woman rather than as a work of art.  For her own self.  The way you love me.”

 

Cesare, seated at the bar, saw Julie enter the Wheelwright and call out to her friend, who rushed to greet her.  Linking arms, the two women crossed over to him.

“Julie,” Lucrezia said, “I’m going to leave you in Cesare’s company for a bit while I’m still waiting tables.  He’ll introduce you to his brother Juan and to Charlie DuPont, his theatrical mentor.  I’m so glad you’re meeting them because they’re very important people to us.”

Left alone with Julie, Cesare was struck anew by the incongruity of Lucrezia’s memories of her as a bedraggled street urchin with the elegant woman who stood before him with her flawless skin, lush red hair and plump, enhanced lips. 

“Glad to see you, Julie.  I understand you’re on your own this evening.  Lucrezia said you felt bored.”

Cesare indicated the bar stool next to his.  Julie settled in, hooking one high heeled boot onto the bottom rung.  Lucrezia brought them drinks and then moved away to take care of other customers.

 “I was,” Julie responded.  “It’s good to be out and among lively people.  Booze.  Noise.  I’m looking forward to meeting Juan and Charlie.”

“How about we go over now and meet them?”

With gentlemanly grace, Cesare escorted Julie over to the table where Juan and Charlie sat, leaning in towards each other, heavily into discussion.

“Hey, guys, there’s someone here I’d like to have you meet.”

Charlie looked up, smiling pleasantly but Juan had to turn around in his chair.  His facial expression indicated annoyance at being interrupted, but when he laid eyes on Julie, his jaw dropped and he turned pale.  He stood, extending his hand to take hers.

“Hello,” he blurted, his voice hoarse and rasping. “Welcome.  Please join us.”

His eyes wide as saucers, he pulled out the chair next to his and settled Julie into it, bending over her solicitously to ask her what she’d like to drink.

_Oh, Jesus Christ, Cesare thought with dismay.  He’s been hit by the Thunderbolt._


	10. Julie's Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein great plans are discussed

Julie was stunning.  There was simply no other way to describe her.  Five feet six inches tall with lush red hair, smoky blue-grey eyes and full, glistening crimson lips, she wore snug French jeans tucked into cognac brown boots, which exactly matched her short leather jacket with its nipped-in waist.  Her hand, when she reached it across the table to greet Charlie, displayed a perfect manicure, with nails painted a subtle nude shade.  When she smiled, both Juan and Charlie stared at her, as enchanted as if a fairy princess had suddenly materialized in their midst. 

“Julie,” Juan sputtered, obviously nonplussed. “So glad to meet you.  What brings you here this evening?”

“I was bored at home and Lucrezia was nice enough to invite me to come by.”

_Cesare sighed.  Oh lord, I hate to do this to my brother, but I have to speak up now, before things get out of hand._

“Julie’s husband is at a business meeting this evening.  That’s why she’s on her own.”

Juan froze.

“Husband?  You’re married?” 

“Yes.  Jonathan is often busy, I’m sorry to say,” Julie pronounced ruefully.  “It’s so nice to be among all of you.”

_Married, Juan thought.  Son of a bitch!  This gorgeous woman walks into my life and she’s married.  I wonder how happily married she is.  Do I dare find out?  I don’t want to come across as an interloping dick in front of Charlie and my brother, but If there’s even a chance I could get somewhere with Julie, I have to take it._

“Julie.” Charlie was speaking now, obviously captivated by the woman at his table. “You’re so beautiful.  Have you ever considered taking to the stage?  You’d make a superb Helen of Troy, or Cleopatra.” 

He laid his hand on Cesare’s shoulder.

“Imagine what a romantic Juliet you’d make with our young man here as your Romeo.”

Cesare coughed uncomfortably.

“I don’t know about that, Charlie.  Julie and I are friends, after all.”

“You play the _role_ , Cesare.  That’s what acting is.”

Julie laughed, revealing ravishing dimples in her cheeks.  Juan choked on his drink and she patted his back.

“Are you all right?” she inquired solicitously.  Turning to Charlie, she demurred, “I’ve never even thought about acting.  I’d be terrible.”

“You wouldn’t,” Charlie insisted.  “I’d mentor you.  Coach you.  I wouldn’t let you fail.”

“You’re very kind, but…”

Charlie and Juan began vying for her attention, attempting to shout over each other.  Embarrassed, Julie glanced at Cesare, silently appealing to him for help.  He cleared his throat to interrupt the two combatants. 

“I doubt Julie would have the time to appear in a play.  Would you, Jules?  Your job keeps you pretty busy.”

“That’s true, Cesare,” she nodded. “I work for an organization that helps homeless people to find proper housing.  My task is to locate furniture and household goods like dishes and cooking utensils and linens for our clients to get them established.”

“What a remarkable thing to do,” Juan declared admiringly. “What led you to such work?”

“Well, I have a bit of experience in being homeless.  Perhaps one could say it gave me a deeper understanding of the needs of people in that situation.”

“You, Julie?  How could that be?”

“I was homeless for a few years as a teenager.  It’s not a pretty story, Juan, and I don’t want to bore you with it.”

Charlie leaned forward and placed his hand on Julie’s arm.

“You could never be boring.  But perhaps you’d rather not talk about it.  Perhaps it’s too painful a memory for you.”

Julie laid her free hand on top of Charlie’s.

“How thoughtful you are.  It’s not that it’s too painful, but I don’t want to be a downer.  I’m so glad to be out among friends.  I want to have fun tonight.”

“But, Julie,” Juan interjected. “I’m a playwright.  Your story sounds like it could make a compelling drama.  Please tell us.”

“Yes, please do,” Charlie urged.  “Your experiences could inform the public.  Make the plight of homeless people more comprehensible and immediate.  Give homelessness a human face.”

“Well, if you think so.” Julie sighed reluctantly and began to relate her history to her captivated listeners.

Juan snorted in disgust when Julie finished her narrative.  “Your mother should have gone to jail.  Such unbelievable abuse.  You, a little girl, thrown out like garbage.  I am so sorry!”

“It was none of your doing, Juan.  No need for you to be sorry.”

“Nevertheless, someone should apologize to you for all you’ve suffered.  Your mother, all those social and governmental agencies who failed you…”

“Well, Lucrezia was there for me.  I had her.”

_Juan’s mind spun crazily.  Julia’s experiences are horrifying.  Here sits a damaged, dreadfully injured human being and all I had intended to do was try to bang her.  I’m so ashamed of myself.  I want to hold her in my arms.  Protect her.  Keep her safe.  Make it up to her for how life has hurt her._

His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again.  “A helpless little girl trying to help another helpless little girl.  And her mother was nearly as bad as yours.  Appalling.  They should both be in jail.  Your stories must be told, yours and Lucrezia’s.  Let me do that, Julie, won’t you?”

“Oh, Juan, I can’t speak for Lucrezia, but if you feel that telling my story might help someone else, then, of course, I’d be honored.”

“And it would be my honor,” Charlie interjected, “to direct Juan’s play at the Argon.  What a marvelous, valuable encounter this has been.”

Cesare stared, amazed. 

_Aw, dammit!  It looks as if ‘The Prince’ is going on the back burner, he thought.  I hope there’s a part for me somewhere in this new work.  It’s a noble idea, but I really was hoping to make my mark in Juan’s current play._

“And, Cesare,” he heard Charlie declare.  “We’re still going to be producing “The Prince” as soon as possible.  It’ll be some time before we can even think about telling Julie’s story.”

“Yeah, Brother.  I have to write it first,” Juan nodded, his facial expression bland and innocent. “I’m going to have to do major research and work intensely and at some length with Julie.”

Cesare smiled awkwardly.

_Oh, shit!_

 

“Baby, I didn’t know what the hell to do,” Cesare lamented as he and Lucrezia walked home after the bar had closed.  “I did all I could to get Juan to back off from Julie.  Told him she was married.  Told him she was involved with her social work.  Let him know she isn’t the kind of woman he could just use and discard.  I’m afraid I only made things worse by giving him a way to hone in on her.  He even has a noble-sounding excuse.  He’s trying to tell her story to publicize the plight of homeless people.  I feel like an ass.”

Lucrezia squeezed Cesare’s hand.

“I’m proud of you, darling.  You did all you could.  It could be that Juan is truly touched by Julie’s story and not just trying to put the moves on her.”

“I doubt it.”

“Well, even so.  Julie is a big girl and can take care of herself.  Who knows?  You could have opened a whole new vista for her.  The literary world.  It’s exciting.”

“Juan is going to want to talk to you about your experiences as well.”

“Fine.  As long as he includes you in the story.  I’ll insist on that.”

“Me?  Why me?”

“For my happy ending.”

She stopped walking and grasped the front of Cesare’s shirt, pulling his head down to hers for a long kiss.  He slid his arms around her and held her close, breathing in the warmth of her body.

“I’ll give this night a happy ending for you if you want,” he whispered and she smiled.

“Oh, Cesare.  I do.  I do.”

 

Fresh from a shower, wrapped in a towel, Lucrezia entered the bedroom.  Cesare called out to her from where he lay.

“Hey, Baby, come on over here.  I have something for you,” he declared archly, and flipped the blankets back, revealing himself to be quite naked and at full mast.

She raised her eyebrows and gave him a sly smile. 

“Is that all for me?”

“Just for you.  Let me give it to you.”

Giggling, she dropped her towel and jumped onto the bed.  With a joyous whoop, Cesare flung his long body on top of hers, delighting as she circled him with her arms and wrapped her legs around his.

 

Cesare pulled Lucrezia closer to him in their bed.  How eagerly she had embraced him, how happily received him.  Now, sated with his love, she slept, naked and innocent as Eve, in his arms.

_‘Before I met her, I wasn’t alive, he thought.  I moved, I breathed, I thought I did useful things.  What did I know?  I was a zombie.  Dead inside.  She opened my eyes.  This tiny little woman has such strength.  Because of her, I’m now truly alive.  Truly living.  She’s shown me a whole world of possibilities.  She loves me.  Me.  Not my family or their money or what I can do for her.  Just me.  How did I get so lucky?  I love her so much.  I want her to be completely happy, completely satisfied with me.  I owe her so much.  I owe her everything.’_

Although still asleep, Lucrezia reached for Cesare, sliding her arm around his ribs and murmuring his name.  He closed his eyes and smiled.


	11. Comedy And Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein "the Play's the Thing"

The two young women seated at a table near the middle of The Wheelwright leaned in towards each other, surreptitiously ogling Cesare.  His back and arm muscles strained the thin fabric of his chambray shirt as he lugged a heavy metal beer barrel from the basement and set it down behind the bar.

“Oh my god,” Lacy murmured to her companion, rolling her eyes, heavily lined with kohl.  “He’s so beautiful.  I just want to eat him up.”

“I bet he’d be delicious,” Tiffany replied. “I bet even his _come_ tastes good.”

Lucrezia bent to carefully set their drinks down on the table in front of them and then straightened up.

“It does,” she interjected tersely.

Lacy and Tiffany turned towards her.

“Does what?” Lacy asked.

“Taste good.  His come does taste good.”

Just then, Cesare glanced over to where Lucrezia was standing and locked eyes with her, breaking into a radiant grin for her alone.

“He’s mine,” Lucrezia smiled at the two friends, and smugly strolled back to the bar.

 

Rehearsals for _“The Prince”_ had been underway for several weeks and were progressing smoothly.  Juan cheerfully agreed to make script changes when Charlie deemed it necessary or when the actors seemed to have trouble effectively delivering certain lines.

The costume that Winnie sewed for Cesare impressed Charlie so much that he hired her to outfit the other principal cast members.  Excited to be earning a bit of money of her own, she happily spent the funds on fabric for a new velveteen curtain for the stage. 

“The old one is musty and threadbare,” she declared to Charlie. “We’re all doing our little bit for Cesare and this is my contribution.”

Ever the thespian, Charlie dropped to one knee and kissed her hand.

 

Two weeks before the play was to premiere, a small army of men and women, carrying brooms, mops, buckets and other cleaning materials, entered the Argon at ten o’clock in the morning.  A meticulous perfectionist, Tony surveyed all around him and pronounced the theater in need of a serious makeover.

“We can’t do it all today, but we can make a good start.”

Taking charge, he dispatched Frankie, Juan and Cesare to begin painting the walls and instructed Samantha and Lucrezia to see to sweeping the stage.

“We’ll spruce up the dressing rooms and backstage areas another day,” he declared. “Right now, we want to fix up the places which the public will see.”

Charlie accompanied Tony on a thorough inspection of the theater. The electrical works would do ‘for now.’  The plumbing was decrepit and in need of upgrading, as were the heating and air conditioning systems.  The floors creaked and the carpets were worn and dusty. Most of the seating had upholstery that was torn and threadbare. 

“Tony,” Charlie protested, “I sincerely appreciate your interest, but this is just a little non-profit community theater here.  Even if I wanted to modernize everything, I couldn’t possibly afford to.  Can’t we just tidy things up a bit for opening night?”

Tony laughed.

“I’m sorry, my friend.  I forget myself.  It’s the handyman in me, I guess.  Actually, a lot of the charm of the Argon is its old-fashioned ambiance.  What do you want to have done?”

“Well, a fresh coat of paint throughout would be welcome.  We have a lot of bric-a-brac that’s unique and striking.  Wall sconces and such.  Friezes of cherubs and grape vines.  ‘Comedy’ and ‘Tragedy’ masks.  It would be nice to play them up.  Winnie’s curtain has enhanced the place magnificently, as you can see.  It will distract from the shabbiness of the seating upholstery.  Make it look like someone has made a real effort.”

“I’d like to drop the chandelier and clean it up,” Tony asserted, absently rubbing his chin. “Replace the burned-out bulbs.  Paint and pretty up the restrooms a bit.  There are any number of minor repairs I could do.  Rehang the doors, for instance.  Fix the leaks in the bathroom faucets.”

“That would be fantastic.  Tony, believe me, I can’t thank you and your mates enough for your interest and support.”

“We’re all proud of Cesare and want his premiere to be memorable.  He’s a good guy.”

“He’s a lucky guy, Tony, to have such friends.”

After two weekends of painting, cleaning and repairing, the Argon Theater presented a decidedly freshened appearance.  The glorious Maria Theresa chandelier had been restored to its former grandeur; it sparkled and gleamed as if preening itself.  Winnie’s magnificent dark burgundy velvet stage drapery glowed with rich, understated elegance. Vacuuming and dusting had driven out the mustiness that had pervaded the air, eliciting sneezing and coughing from performers, crew and patrons alike.  The walls had been freshened with coats of cream colored paint in an eggshell finish that lent itself well to touches of gold enamel that enhanced the plaster figures in the frieze which snaked its way all around the theater.  The doors, which Tony had carefully rehung, loomed majestically, proudly, with their newly applied dark paint and subtly glowing brass hardware.  The restrooms, freed from dripping faucets and leaking toilets and scrubbed with disinfectants, smelled clean and sanitary.  Tony and his helpers had installed paper towel dispensers and sturdy porcelain toilet tissue holders.  Julia contributed decorative touches which she had snapped up from flea markets and second-hand stores: a Persian-looking carpet runner for the main aisle; a long oaken bench salvaged from a demolished church and set in the lobby; framed art posters for the restrooms; a small, elegant sculpture of Melpomene, the Muse of Tragedy, which she had placed on a shelf in the ticket booth.  Charlie, as enchanted as ever by Julia, praised her exquisite taste.  He extended his arms and spun himself around and around, thrilled with the transformation of his ‘little non-profit community theater.’

“A venue worthy of being called a ‘House of the Arts,’” he proclaimed.  “I’m overjoyed.”

A crew of sooty-faced friends grinned jubilantly.

 

Ticket sales were brisk, with many Wheelwright patrons and friends from Cesare’s car lot lending eager support.  Julie prevailed upon Jonathan to talk up the Argon and its upcoming production among his business contacts and they responded by reserving seats for the play as well. 

Cesare went over his lines at home with Lucrezia every night and impressed her with his deep and subtle understanding of the role.

“Am I any good?” he tentatively asked her one evening, having exhausted himself with two hours of continuous recitation. 

“My darling,” she murmured to him as she held his head against her bosom and stroked his hair. “You really _are_ good.  _That_ good.  More than ‘good enough.’”

 

Jonathan and Julie, as a gift to Cesare, had provided to the opening-night patrons a lovely champagne bar in the theater lobby, along with chocolate truffles and fresh fruit.  In a very good mood, the attendees began to file into their seats. 

Resplendent in his costume, Cesare peered from behind the curtain as the Argon began to fill up.

_Holy shit!  It looks like a full house.  Easy, Borgia.  Don’t go getting stage fright.  You can’t afford it.  Not tonight.  Deep breaths…_

He ran like hell to the bathroom and was sick.

A beaming Charlie stepped onstage to greet the audience and welcome them.  The lights went down and the curtain rose.

                                                                                

 

Cesare’s face as he raised his arms above his head was jubilant, exuberant, elated.  When the curtain was lifted after the final act to reveal the performers onstage, their hands clasped together as they bowed, the audience erupted in ovation.  Charlie whispered to Cesare, “This moment is yours, my lad.  Savor it,” and pushed him forward to stand onstage in front of the rest of the cast.  Startled, Cesare blinked a moment before he realized the playgoers had jumped to their feet, amid shouts of “Bravo!” and even louder acclaim. 

“For me,” he thought, dumbfounded. “They’re clapping for me.”

He crossed over to where Juan was standing, applauding, in the wings and pulled him to center stage.  Cesare gestured grandly in salute to the author, thrilled to be sharing the triumph with his brother.

 

Backstage, Cesare greeted thronging well-wishers, grinning and ducking his head modestly as they gushed with praise for his performance.  Amid the happy chatter, he reached for Lucrezia and pulled her close to him, his arm encircling her waist.  She gazed up at him, her eyes radiant with joy at his excitement. 

“Can you believe it, Baby?” he whispered to her.  “They all think I was good.”

“You were, my darling.  I told you.  You were _that_ good. I’m so proud of you.  You worked so hard to make your dream come true.”

“It’s because of you, Baby.  You made this happen for me.  I’m so grateful.”

He bent to kiss her and she flung her arms around his neck, drinking in the sweetness of his mouth.

A sudden hush falling over the gathering caused the pair to look up.  In the doorway stood Cesare’s parents, ramrod straight and dressed regally in formal evening wear.  Vannozza’s silver satin gown shimmered down to her feet, with her diamond bracelet sparkling at her delicate wrist.  Around her shoulders, she had draped a fringed metallic wrap.  Rodrigo wore an elegant, superbly-cut black tuxedo with a snowy white shirt and thick cashmere scarf. 

Cesare’s eyes welled up with tears and his smile turned tremulous.

“Mom.  Dad.  You came.  You came to see me…”

_“Cesare!”_

Vannozza’s voice slashed like a razor, cutting off her son’s greeting.  Her delicately modeled nose wrinkled as she entered and turned her head left to right and back again, taking in the room.

“You gave up everything you had for this…this _rathole_ ,” she sneered.  “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Mom…” Cesare began.  “Mom, I…”

“Now I know for sure that you’re a lunatic,” Rodrigo hissed, his voice icy.  He slowly gazed around him with dripping disdain.  “You aspire to _this_?  You, who were brought up and educated for the finest things. This is the best you can do?”

Momentarily stunned, Juan was the first to recover and stepped forward, his hands balled into fists.

“Now just a goddam minute…” he began, but his father shouted him down.

“You!”  Rodrigo jeered.  “Your mother and I never had any illusions as to your lack of worth, and tonight you more than proved us right.”

They turned and marched off.

For a moment, everyone stood frozen in shocked silence, but then Cesare turned towards Juan with a sardonic grin.

“Whatdya know, Brother?  Our first bad review.  Now that we’ve gotten that over with, the rest should be a cinch.”

With the ice broken, everyone began to laugh uproariously.

 

Item in the morning edition of the _Daily Herald_ newspaper:

**Powerhouse Performance Provides Perfect ‘Prince’ Production**

By Laeticia Dudley,

Arts and Entertainment Critic

 

It isn’t often that this critic views a play that can be called astonishing, but last night at the Argon Theatre was an exception. “The Prince”, an original work, based around the age-old tale of a man searching for his own identity and then finding himself though the love of an ordinary girl, is a triumph for first time playwright Juan Borgia, whose dialogue and pacing speaks of someone far more experienced. Mr. Borgia will become an assured and successful playwright in the not too distant future, and you heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen.

The casting of his brother Cesare as the eponymous Renaissance Prince is inspired, and here is an actor with not only the emotional range to carry such a complex and demanding role, but with the physicality and good looks needed to dominate the stage like the colossus he will become.

I urge all of you, serious theatregoers and those who enjoy supporting independent productions such as this one, directed with aplomb by Charles DuPont, to pay a visit before this show ends its run. When it gets picked up by Broadway, as it assuredly will, and truly deserves, the tickets will be out of your price range, folks. So go and see it now, and marvel at this wonderful and affecting production.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless thanks for my beloved critic for her kind review


End file.
